


Roommates Nemesis

by Ely_Pines



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, BAMF Natasha Romanov, BAMF Sharon Carter (Marvel), Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fluff, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Other, Sam Wilson Is a Good Bro, Slow Burn, Weekly update, When she'll get there, Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes, i guess it can get gore
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-15
Updated: 2019-10-09
Packaged: 2019-10-10 10:24:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 20
Words: 77,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17424110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ely_Pines/pseuds/Ely_Pines
Summary: While Captain America and the Winter Soldier fight each other almost every day, Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes are best rommates.Or: Steve is oblivious and Bucky has amnesia.





	1. Steve's POV

Cap was after the Winter Soldier. Well, at least, that’s how Nick Fury and SHIELD had put it because, frankly, they didn’t really seem to do anything but playing cat and mouse. Steve would receive a text from Sharon or Nat - mostly Nat - telling him where the Winter Soldier had been spotted. He would go there, they’d fight until one of them would decide to retreat and that would be all for the day. No winner, no loser. Plus, the Winter Soldier seemed to be following the same orders than him: going after his enemy.

Still, Steve was bleeding already. He could feel the blood dripping from his wrist and soaking his sleeve. This time, the Winter Soldier may have been up to set a bomb in Manhattan - he wasn’t sure, he hadn’t had time to check it yet. Steve saw him standing over the rooftop and he immediately threw his shield at him. But the Winter Soldier bent backwards and dodged it before starting to fire right after that. One of his bullets hit Steve in his left arm before he could take cover behind his shield.

Cap located the fire escape and immediately went to climb it up. They met on the roof and started fighting hand to hand. As always, the Winter Soldier seemed to have an unlimited supply of knives and guns. Steve had gotten quite tired of that. He slammed his hand on the assassin’s right wrist to force him to let go of his weapon - and in retaliation he got a cut in his right shoulder from the knife in the left hand.

Steve took a few steps back to catch his breath before rushing in the battle once more. They kept fighting and wounding each other - Steve was lucky enough to throw a punch in his opponent’s jaw strong enough to send him on the ground for a few seconds - until one of SHIELD’s helicopters appeared in the dark sky. The Winter Soldier fled and Steve was too exhausted - once again - to go after him.

*

Half a hour later, Steve was already on his way home. Fury had told him that the Winter Soldier couldn’t have gotten too far, that he had agents on him etc - while Sharon confirmed that the box they had been fighting around (not Steve’s best idea) was indeed a bomb - but he knew they wouldn’t catch him. They never did. This game had been running for a whole month now.

Steve felt drained out but his lips curved into a faint smile when he got his eyes on the door leading to his apartment. He had a spurt of energy and jumped over the few remaining steps. He stopped at the threshold however and delicately tried to manipulate the handle. The door was locked. Meaning Winter wasn’t home yet. Steve let out a sigh of relief and reached for his keys.

The blonde took a step inside his home and took in the whole place with a glance. On his right, a door led to his roommate’s bedroom. His own was across the living-room, on the other side. The living-room itself had a yellowish/brown couch, a coffee table - where they put the pizzas during movie nights - a huge flat-screen TV on the wall framed by two large windows that opened on a very nice Brooklyn neighborhood.

Facing the couch and the TV was the kitchen island only separated from the rest of the room by a countertop. Steve felt like going for the fridge to see if there was any fresh drinks left but decided against it when he saw the dirt and the blood he was leaving on the floor behind him. He hurried to his room and took off his stained and dirty uniform before heading for the bathroom. It was situated behind the kitchen and opened from both side. Thus they always had to be careful to lock the two doors when they wanted to use it but it was a small price to pay for a bathroom linked directly to their personal room.

Steve took a long, hot shower, allowing his body to relax completely. He also bandaged his wounds, wrapping his wrist in gauze and putting a band-aid on his shoulder. When that was done, he washed the floor, from the entry door to his room. He then took a beer out the fridge and retired to his room. He set himself comfortably on his bed and took out his sketchbook. He wanted to draw that odd building he had went by on his run this morning but his fingers seemed to be to tired too so he finally settled on his book.

He was in the middle of chapter 3 of _The Fault in Our Stars_  - Sam told him it was a emotional book and he was starting to understand why - when he heard the entry door opening. He lifted his head thought he couldn’t - yet - see through the walls. He heard Winter’s footsteps going to his room. There was some agitation then he heard the vacuum.

Steve rose an eyebrow. That was odd. Well, it was Winter’s turn for the cleaning indeed but it was only Friday and they usually did the cleaning on Sundays. In fact, the vacuum stopped roaring pretty fast. Winter couldn’t have done more than the living-room - or the kitchen. Steve shook his head and went back to his book. His roommates must have accidentally drop something on the ground and he was cleaning up his little mess.

Shortly afterwards, the shower got turned on. Winter stayed in there for twenty-three minutes before Steve heard the distinct sound of his body slouching on the couch. That sound made him smile irrepressibly. He hesitated for a short time before he closed his book and rose up.

*

“Hi there!”

Winter lifted his head when Steve appeared in the living-room and let himself fall on the couch with a thunk that made the whole thing shake.

“Hi” the brunette answered - then his eyes flashed back to the TV’s black screen.

After a month together, Steve knew that his roommate wasn’t the talkative type. He spoke only when necessary and could spent hours just staring at nothing, his knees pressed against his chest.

Steve bit his lips.

“Are you... okay?” he asked.

This time, Winter turned his head directly at him and Steve saw that the right side of his face was all swollen and red. Without thinking, Steve raised his hand in his direction but Winter quickly backed away, scowling.

“Yeah I’m fine. What about you?” he snapped back, staring deliberately at Steve’s dark eye and his other bandages. He squinted his eyes, looking more concerned. “Did something happened at your... job?”

The blonde winced.

They never talk about his job. Everyone out there in the word knew that Steve Rogers was Captain America but actually few people knew his actual face and Winter had never given the impression that he had figured out that his roommate Steve Rogers was in fact _the_  Steve Rogers. Which was truly a good damn thing. Steve was tired of the media, of being who the people wanted him to be, to react how they were expecting him to react - and so on. It was so relieving that the brunette only saw him as the random person who happened to become his roommate - and he really wished it could stay that way.

(At the beginning, he had imagined he would change his name - he had already chosen a new one: Abraham Barack Kennedy - but he had figured he wouldn’t like being called something else than Steve. For sure, he would never have made a good spy.)

“Not... exactly. Just a... fight. You know.”

Winter kept staring at him for a few more seconds then he shrugged and went back to the black screen of the TV. For a moment, Steve hesitated to offer to turn it on so they could watch some mindless bullshit - but the state of his friend worried him.

“Winter... You’re sure you’re okay?”

He knew that the boy - who couldn’t be far younger than he was (minus his seventy-or-so years under the ice obviously) - was a student. An art student, even (thought the blonde never got to watch one of his painting.) And the brunette was built quite broad. But it was true that he always wore worn-out jeans, big combat boots whose laces were almost ripped off totally and hoodies twice his size. Besides, although he took regular showers, his long brown hair always looked like a mess. No wonder if his whole pitiful appearance attracted bullies - a thought Steve simply couldn’t bare.

“Listen” he said more firmly, putting his hand on the brunette’s right shoulder “if there’s someone beating you up-” (Thinking about it, Winter got beaten up pretty much as often as Steve got his ass kicked by the Hydra assassin he was supposed to chase and arrest. That may explain why Steve had taken so long to notice. Not great Rogers.) “-anyone at all, please tell me. I’m, er, stronger than I look and really, all I want is-”

But Winter slipped away from his grip and got back on his feet.

“I’m _fine_. Just stop asking.”

He looked around, fidgeting with the trim of his left sleeve.

“I’m... going to prepare dinner” he announced.

Steve jumped on his feet.

“I’m helping too!”

Winter glared at him but said nothing.

*

They made dinner together. Steve took on him to reheat the two steaks on the pan while Winter made a salad with chopped potatoes. Steve couldn’t but notice, as always, how incredibly efficient Winter was. He was so focused on his task and his hand moved with such precision that the blonde would have bet that the bits of potatoes had all the exact same size.

Steve’s gaze also fell on Winter’s left hand still covered with a thin black glove. Usually, he wore the gloves on both of his hands but as far as Steve knew, he never took the left one off. Not even when he was cooking.

Once, during their first week, Steve had asked him if he wasn’t too hot with it - and Winter growled. One week later, when the weather got suddenly colder, he asked him if he wasn’t actually too cold - as a supersoldier, Steve ran hot and didn’t always remember that the people around him may not feel the same as he did about the temperature - but the brunette growled again - and more aggressively. Steve decided that it wasn’t his business after all.

Dinner was ready. Winter took the salad and the meat to the coffee table, between the couch and the TV screen while Steve opened the cupboards to take out two plates, knives and forks. They turned the TV on and settled on the news. They ate in silence, listening.

“Want to play video games?” Steve asked when they had finished and the brunette had risen up again with their plates in his hands.

Winter shrugged and put the dishes in the sink. By now, Steve knew him well enough to know that him shrugging was his kind of a “yes” answer. So he put on _Mortal Kombat_  and made sure the game pads were linked to the PlayStation. Winter came back on the couch and they started playing against each other.

Something not many people knew was that Steve, when playing video games, was no more a role model for the youth.

“Aw! Come on!” he moaned when Winter hit him with a combo. “Fucking shit, no you’re not doing __that__  to me!” he yelled when Winter threw five punches in a row. And: “Are you fucking kidding me?!” - at the pad that obviously - _obviously!_  - didn’t work as fine as Winter’s did.

Steve went quiet for a bit after that, scowling. He glanced at his friend. Winter looked as focused as he had been when he was making the potato salad. The way he used his pad was highly effective too - thought Steve had had to explain to him the controls like a month ago and they hadn’t played that much since then.

The match ended and, unsurprisingly, Winter was the winner. Steve glanced at him with the corner of his eyes and saw his shoulder fell as he let out a sigh. Had he been under stress all along? For a game?

“Buddy, that’s really impressive” Steve told him and the brunette stared at him. “How do you do that actually? Like how are you so good?”

The boy shrugged.

“I’ve had a good training” he answered.

Steve looked at him confused and his confusion made Winter frowned too. He closed his eyes. And re-opened them after a whole minute.

“I mean, at playing video games.”

He slouched deeper into the couch as if he hoped to disappear within it.

“You... trained at video games?” Steve asked to be sure he had understood right.

“Yeah. When you’re not here.”

He was avoiding his eyes now so Steve figured he should drop the subject.

“Okay. Nevermind. What should we play next? Oh I know!”

He affectionately shoved his friend in the ribs but Winter gasped with pain.

“Oh my God!” the blonde shouted instantly, “it’s that bad?!”

He was already tucking at the purple hoodie to take it off.

“Please, let me see!”

But Winter didn’t want to and kept kicking him and his hands while recoiling on the far side of the couch.

“No! Leggo of me!” he shrieked and his voice sounded way higher than usual.

Steve frowned and stopped.

“Winter. What’s going on.”

The brunette turned away and wrapped his arms around his knees tighter, completely shielding himself from the rest of the word - and for one moment Steve thought he’d never answer.

“I just fell off the stairs, okay?” he then said weakly - before his voice got more irritated. “Why are you like that? I told you I’m fine!”

Steve stared at him but Winter didn’t move and only looked hurt so he sighed and rose up. He headed for his room and came back shortly afterwards with a DVD in his hand. The boy was still in the same position, curled up in the left side of the couch. The blonde was sure his roommate was hiding the truth from him but he couldn’t asked for it if the brunette wasn’t willing to open up to him in the first place - that would be wrong. So instead, he showed the DVD to him. A flash of interest passed in Winter’s eyes when he saw the title _Star Wars Battlefront II_.

“Look, I picked it up at the store yesterday. Sam told me it’s a really good game. Wanna try it?”

Winter finally looked up at him and slowly nodded. Steve smiled. While the blonde put the game in their PlayStation and start it, he bent to the floor and picked up the two pads they had both dropped to the floor during their argument.

“Thanks” said Steve when he handed him his pad.

The credits rolled up and the epic music spread into the room.

“Did you manage to see the movie the day they went out?” the blonde asked to lighten the mood.

The other one stared at him way too longer - and Steve started to shift uncomfortably in his seat.

“No... I was too young. And you?” Winter asked, squinting at Steve.

Oh God. Steve realized what he just said. The first _Star Wars_  movie was out in theater some forty years ago. So of course Winter was too young to have even been born at that time. They were both supposed to be too young.

“Well, er, yeah me too. Obviously. No, I meant, you know. The recent ones.”

He didn’t even know what “recent ones” he was talking about. He knew there was one trilogy shooting at the moment - or so he thought he knew - but actually, on one of their first movie nights, Steve had tricked Winter into seeing _Star Wars VI_ , pretending that he liked this one in particular and wanted to see it again - when, in fact, he hadn’t seen it yet at all.

Winter seemed to have to think about it, too.

“No” he said finally. After a few seconds, he added like he felt he needed to justify it: “I don’t often go to the cinema.”

“Yeah, me neither.”

The truth was, Steve loved going to the theater, back in the 40s. When they were kids, he and Bucky used to sneak into the cinema because they could never have afforded that many movie tickets. Sometimes, however, Bucky would buy one for himself alone or for him and Steve, just so the staff wouldn’t suspect a thing. Later, Steve got to see movies way more often because of his whole being Captain America stuff. But nowadays, he just didn’t feel like going there anymore. He’d go to see movies when Sam or Natasha - or even Sharon - suggested it, but he never went there alone. Alone just felt wrong.

“Anyway, it’s fully loaded now. Let’s play. Hey, look, we can be in the same team!”

He glanced at his roommate. Winter pressed his lips together.

“Okay.”

Steve tried to hide his smile. He didn’t understand why - it was only a game after all - but he knew he would have felt sad if Winter had refused to play with him.

“Let’s go partner. For the Republic!”

“For the Republic!” echoed Winter and he suddenly sounded enthusiastic.

As it turned out, Winter was a terrific partner.

Steve being Steve goddamn Rogers, he just couldn’t help but jump right under the enemy fire. The blonde didn’t care how many times he died. It was just too much fun to run straight into the enemies and aim for their flag and basically shoot around randomly without knowing if he would even be able to touch the flag before he would lie dead on the ground. His skills (and instincts of self-preservation) weren’t any better when the game would propose him to play a Jedi. Usually, he’d last two minutes before he got killed again.

Yet, it was clear that his deaths count would have been twice higher if it wouldn’t have been for Winter. Winter had his back. Always. Steve offered him to play the Jedi every time they could but the brunette refuse each time. He preferred to play a sniper,  whether he put his character on a strategic location or he followed Steve with a paltry gun (even then he got to kill more droids than Steve).

He was playing very seriously again - and Steve wondered if he was actually having fun.

Unlike the other game, Winter was muttering all the time and Steve caught him swearing in Russian and saying things like “please, no, we’re outnumbered” or “Rogers, __please__ , you’ve got five at your six, I just can’t”.

They played far into the night and when Steve finally announced that he was going to stop there, the brunette let out a grim “gosh, that was so exhausting” that made Steve blush.

“What did you say?” he asked him.

He was going to hate himself if his friend hadn’t enjoyed their evening at all.

The brunette turned to him.

“Nothing. You’re going to bed?”

Steve rose and proceeded to turn off both the Play and the TV.

“Yes. I got work tomorrow.” (A meeting with Fury which, he recognized in plain honesty, would totally require of him some solid hours of sleep.) “Goodnight, Winter. Take care.”

Winter’s eyes widened.

“You too!”

For one second, Steve got stunned because Winter sounded painful and so _terrified_. But then the brunette shook his head and his whole face looked dull again. Surely, it was the exhaustion - and probably the beating (Steve was definitely not buying that fell-off-the-stairs story).

“Yeah, well. Don’t worry. See you tomorrow.”

Steve went into the bathroom one last time to change his bandages - really, the Winter Soldier wasn’t one to underestimate because it looked like that wound on his shoulder would take more than a day to heal which meant something given his super-healing ability.

Nevermind, Steve thought for himself, he would eventually arrest that Hydra assassin. And though he had originally moved in Brooklyn because the Winter Soldier appeared to be acting from there, Captain America wouldn’t mind staying here after the mission ended.

He had grown quite fond of his roommate.


	2. Bucky's POV

SHIELD wasn’t wrong. The Winter Soldier did operate from Brooklyn. The truth was, Brooklyn had been a hideout to Hydra operatives for a few years already and that was where the Soldier was sent when Pierce got his hands on him. Now, Pierce didn’t want to lose his precious Asset. Thus, they decided to send him under cover so if the Avengers - or Captain America, for he was a real pain in the ass randomly discovering Hydra facilities as he went - ever stormed the place, they wouldn’t find him. The Soldier would only be at the safehouse when he’d be reporting for missions. (But he also suspected it was a way to get rid of him for most of the time.)

His cover identity was a young art student looking for a flat in Brooklyn, near his university. The Soldier didn’t know where he’d pitched that idea but he confusedly figured that an art student would be asked too less specific questions - than, let’s say, a student in engineering - to which his limited knowledge in fields outside murdering would give him away.

Choosing both the apartment and the roommate was a hard choice to make because the Winter Soldier had to make sure he would be able to properly operate without risking the real civilians to discover the truth.

However there he was, not two visits on his first day’s search; a nice flat with a common room to which was attached a kitchen island, a decent bathroom (with a bath tube that looked like it could actually fit him in entirely - sweet) and two bedrooms separated by the common room. The young man willing to share the flat was tall, blonde, had superb blue eyes and a dashing smile. He told the Winter Soldier that he was often out, would come home late (but be quiet nonetheless) and didn’t have noisy hobbies (he blushed lightly when he said that he used to draw). Perfect.

“It’s a deal then!” exclaimed the young man with a broad smile while reaching out his big hand (in the five or ten minutes that had lasted their very first conversation, the Winter Soldier had already figured that this guy couldn’t help but smile. Unnerving.)

They shook hands.

“I’m Steve Rogers by the way. And you?”

“I’m the Winter...”

He stopped. He almost gave away his codename to a perfect stranger. What the hell. Nevermind, he had about three seconds to finish his sentence before Steve Rogers would get suspicious. Quick, a decent cover name - unfortunately he had already said something. Could “Winter” be a first name? Probably enough. Now, he only needed a last name - a really American one. For Putin’s sake! The only American last names he knew of belonged to the people he was sent to kill! Well, he guessed he only had to pick one, then.

“...Kennedy.”

Steve Rogers mildly frowned.

“Winter Kennedy?” he repeated and the Soldier nodded slowly. “It’s a bit strange, I may admit but hey, it’s cool too. Are you related to the former pres-”

“No.”

The blonde shifted on his feet, looking a bit uncomfortable. The Soldier suddenly wondered if he hadn’t been supposed to say that. Maybe all the Kennedys in this country were related and he just blew out his cover already?

Well, dammit, if Hydra had wanted a fine cover they shouldn’t have wiped his mind so brutally last night. The Soldier was pretty sure he had forgotten a lot of useful skills for undercover in the process.

(That’s not the way to do it people! You don’t wipe out your best asset’s skills!)

Luckily, Steve Rogers didn’t seem to suspect a thing and proposed right away that they’d cook the dinner together and then eat while watching a movie.

Which was how the Winter Soldier learned that he wasn’t going to escape from these roommates nights.

Stalin’s boots.

 

*

 

Winter got up on that morning with a bloody headache and his right flank hurting like hell. It took him way too much time to remember what happened the day before and why he was suffering so much. But then it all came back to him: Captain America and his damn shield. And Cap’s boots in his ribs too. That’s where it hurt the most.

(Hell, that wasn’t even fair. He was only supposed to escort some A.I.M guys - not even a single killing was involved - when Mister America decided that it was his business too. The guys managed to meet their Hydra contact, mostly because the Soldier stood his ground against his enemy but still. What a pain in the ass, that dude.)

The assassin put his two feet on the cold ground - the flat’s heating was shitty and he had put no carpet in his room - and waited for the dizziness to fade away. He rose and left his bedroom for the kitchen island where he hoped some coffee remained.

“Hi Winter! Slept well?”

Steve was already up - his roommate was the kind of guy who, no matter what hour they’d go to bed would be up at six and running laps to stay in shape - except that he wasn’t alone. There was a black dude with him. A bit of a bearded, well-built dude with a funny backpack - and when he said funny, he meant not a normal backpack. More like a superhero secret stuff kind of backpack.

Wait, his face reminded him something. Had they met yet?

“Mm.” He answered in a pretty explicit way.

Steve turned to his friend.

“Sorry Sam, Winter’s not a morning person.”

To be honest, he was sure he wasn’t a person at all. (More like a deadly weapon. A super cool, super efficient deadly weapon.)

The blonde looked back at him while putting his hand on the black dude’s shoulder.

“Winter, meet Sam. He’s my best friend.”

“Nah Steve” said Sam winking, “Don’t get it wrong: I’m your _only_  friend. Seriously Winter, I admire you. Being his roommate? I’m not sure I would even last a day!”

“Shut up Wilson” Steve replied pretending to be offended, “I make a perfectly good roommate.”

The brunette looked at the two of them taunting each other and blinked.

“Coffee?” he asked.

Steve’s grin disappeared and he grimaced guiltily.

“Aw, sorry, I’m afraid we drank it all.”

Winter seemed to consider that sentence for a whole second. Then he shrugged and headed for the countertop. While he put a pot of coffee to brew calmly, he grabbed a plate from the cupboard and overloaded it with pancakes - at least, Steve had made enough of them - and spread maple syrup all over them, watching the gooey liquid make its way down slowly, in a truly mesmerizing way. He barely listened to Steve and Sam talking next to the couch (why didn’t they sit down?) when Steve suddenly called him.

“Winter?”

He lifted his head and looked at his friend. Steve waved shyly in the direction of both Sam and the door.

“I, er, I’m gonna go to work now. Everything will be okay?”

Again, it took him a solid second to realize Steve was waiting for an actual answer.

“Yes.”

Steve’s face fell with such distinct relief that Winter frowned, not sure what he had said or done right or whether it was a test or something.

“Perfect. I’ll surely be gone for the whole day. So don’t worry about me.”

“Okay.”

Winter twisted his lips upwards to make a smile. Steve smiled back with his shimmering teeth showing up. The brunette had figured that Steve liked it when he smiled after answering to what he’d said. He wasn’t sure why but maybe it was because it assured him that Winter was going to do as he was told. (As if he’d ever disobey.)

“I’m gonna prep myself. Back in a sec.” Steve mumbling to both and neither of them at the same time.

He disappeared into his bedroom.

Coffee was ready now. Winter took a mug and helped himself with quite an amount of it (unfitted for optimal performances but to hell with performances. His head wasn’t going to be fine for the rest of the day anyway) and then headed for the couch with his plate in his other hand. He put down the plate on the little oak table in front of the TV but kept the mug in his hand and settled himself comfortably on the couch, lifting his knees to his chest.

Steve’s friend was now standing barely two feet away from him. The Soldier took a quick glance - both at the man and the weird backpack. The sunglasses gave it away eventually.

Stalin’s boots. That was the very Falcon standing there.

Winter’s blood started rushing in his veins but he took a deep breath twice and calmed his heart rate. No need to alert the Falcon that he had recognized him. Still, why was that damn flying man doing in his and Steve’s apartment?

Winter propped himself up and clenched his fingers on his mug. _Don’t look at him. Pretend you don’t care about him._

“I know that look.”

The brunette’s gaze darted at the black man. Sam had his arms crossed on his chest and looked... pissed? No. He looked like Steve when Steve was lecturing him about stopping getting into a fight (but __Steve__  I wouldn’t if they’d stop sending that damn Mister American Shield after me every single time I try to do my damn job).

“What?” he blurted, surprised by the man’s statement and also by the fact that he hadn’t controlled himself enough to not respond to him.

Sam went to sit on the couch, next to him - but not as close as Steve used to do.

“I know that look.” He repeated. “The thousand mile stare.”

His head turned to Steve’s bedroom’s door and then to him again.

“You didn’t tell him I suppose?”

“Tell him what?”

Winter also looked in the direction of Steve’s door as if Sam could see their friend or as if he could see him too and know how much more time Steve needed to be ready.

 “The war.”

The brunette tensed up immediately and he tucked on his left sleeve - albeit he was also wearing his black gloves thus preventing anyone from seeing that one of his hand wasn’t made of flesh.

“It’s okay, dude.”

Sam lifted his hand surely to put it on Winter’s soldier but the assassin shied away and the Falcon let his hand fell flat on the couch. He grinned sadly.

“You know, if you need help-”

“I don’t need help.”

Sam tilted his head and his grin deepened - though more wryly.

“Yeah, right, you don’t.”

The Soldier felt the utmost confusion ever. What in the name of the hammer and the sickle was even happening here. Why would the Falcon, Cap’s faithful sidekick, try to help him? (And to what end?) He was acting like a shrink or something - maybe to destabilize him - and that was certainly not something Hydra had prepared him for.

Winter felt that queasy feeling making a strong comeback.

“Listen man. You don’t have to feel guilty.”

“I don’t-” But then he snapped. “I did what they told me to do!” He exclaimed way too loudly than necessary - but Sam didn’t seem affected.

“Exactly.” He replied in a serious but somewhat gentle voice that made Winter continue.

“But... I didn’t have a choice. They never asked me if I wanted to do these things. They couldn’t care less.”

Sam scooted closer to him and he didn’t even flinch. Sam’s voice was soothing and he felt like relaxing a bit.

“I know. I understand how you feel. Following orders without question. That’s how the chain of command works, for sure. But that doesn’t mean your officers didn’t care about you. And above all, what you’ve got to remember is that you did it for your country. As much you as your officers, as a matter of fact.”

Winter frowned.

“I don’t think-”

But right at this instant, Steve reemerged from his room, wearing a leather brown jacket buttoned all the way up, tight navy blue pants, and a huge, square bag slung over his shoulder.

“Ready to go, Sam” he announced - then, seeing the two of them on the couch: “Sorry did I interrupt you? What were you talking about?”

Sam jumped to his feet.

“Nothing. Let’s go Rogers.”

However, as they were about to cross the threshold, the Falcon turned to the Soldier:

“You and me, we’ll have to talk more about that, Kennedy.”

And then they were out.

Finally.

Winter took a deep breath and warily uncoiled his legs. He grabbed the remote and turned the TV on. He immediately stumbled upon a Soviet era documentary.

“Oh, come on!”

He rolled his eyes and bent his head backwards. It was like the whole Universe was trying to say something to him - but he just didn’t care.

After a few seconds, though, he leaned forwards and listened closely to the documentary.

 

*

 

When Steve returned home, Winter was on the couch, watching TV and eating dinner - an omelette. The blonde let his bag fell on the ground and the noise was loud and somewhat metallic.

“Did you just watch TV all day?” he teased the brunette.

Winter didn’t answer - and didn’t even shrug. Steve let out a deep sigh - Winter was too focused on the TV to look at him but by the sound of the sigh, he figured it was out of exhaustion and not because he was pissed. The blonde then grabbed his bag up again and went to his room. He changed clothes to a warm sweater and some loose sport pants and made a stop to the bathroom to wash his hands.

“I have cooked your dinner” Winter told him when he came back. “Just warm it up a little.”

Steve froze for a second, surprised.

“Oh. Er, thanks, buddy.”

Winter didn’t reply but frowned. What was Steve even surprised of? It had been his time to cook after all - that was in their rules.

(Winter loved rules. Well, he didn’t often enjoy following them but if there were rules then he knew what he had to do to not get punished. Steve was a nice guy and hence had established the rules since day one. Taking out the trash one week, cleaning the house the other, doing his own dishes after every meal, cooking for the two of them when they had planned to spend the evening together... That was the kind of rules Winter had to follow as Steve’s roommate. Real simple, real easy. Nothing like those Hydra fuckers.)

Steve re-heated the omelette (out of Winter’s sight, he deeply scowled at it and its undoubted outrageous quantity of herbs and berries that it contained because since the brunette had discovered their existence, he kind of abused of them) and put the slice of the carrot cake on the rim of his plate before joining his friend on the couch.

“What are we watchin’?” he asked his mouth already full.

Winter stayed quiet. Steve quickly figured out what the documentary was about, though. The old footage, those planes nosediving into US battleships... The documentary also included interviews of the kamikazes’ widows. Some were proud, some were trying to hide their pain.

Steve sighed loudly.

“To think some men had sacrificed their lives like that. Like it was glorious. Or even good. It’s so stupid.”

Winter’s eyes flashed to Steve straight away.

“Excuse me?”

The blonde gave him one of his serene smiles, the one that meant he admitted he may had been too straightforward but that he was right, after all.

“I’m not saying they were stupid, of course. I just mean, you know, theirs ideals were. I’m just sad for them because they were on the wrong side of this war so they died for nothing. But I think, maybe, if they could have been more educated, they would have seen how stupid what they were told was and they would have refused to sacrifice their lives in vain.”

“That’s not how it works Steve.”

The blonde grinned gently again and grabbed one of the beer on the coffee table. Winter’s gaze followed his hand but quickly got back to his face.

“I’m just saying” Steve said while opening the beer - without a bottle-opener but without much effort either.

“Well, you’re saying bullshit.”

Steve stopped and considered his friend more closely. Winter looked paler than usual - not that he ever had pinky cheeks or whatever - and there was definitively something else in his voice. Winter talked like almost never. Yet, Steve could feel a tension in his whole body and a new urge in his voice - the urge to talk.

He waited and Winter spoke.

“You don’t understand, Steve” he said. “Brainwashing, propaganda... That’s the same shit. You don’t believe it because you want to. You believe it because there’s nothing else left to believe. That’s what they do. They take everything from you, everything you know, everything you love and care about. And when you’ve got nothing left, when you don’t even know anymore who you’re supposed to be or who you wanted to be then they fill you with their ideas. So when you have the opportunity to doubt them, you don’t. Because that would be pointless. Because that would mean going back to a world where nothing makes sense anymore. And nobody wants that. So you don’t doubt and hope you’ll be naive enough to believe you’re doing the right thing.

“And it’s not a matter of education either. You can be the most educated shit on the planet and still do a revolution that would end up in a bloodshed. Because the moment you stop your revolution, then you admit to yourself and to everyone else that you were wrong - no, don’t even try. A revolution can’t be stopped; there’ll always be someone to think it hasn’t reached its goal yet and if you’re not that person, even if you’re the one who started it, then you’re against it all and you’re wrong. Being wrong means that one day you decided what you beliefs were going to be and then that you ended choosing the wrong ones. Nobody wants to admit they’re wrong Steve. So you stay true to yourself till the end of your life and you tell yourself that because you never disavowed yourself then it _has_  to mean you’re the one who was right all along.

“And that’s how you end up sacrificing yourself. ‘Cause, you know, it’s never the bad guys that’d do something like that. So no, it’s not stupid, Steve. It’s sad. And terrifying.”

Winter finally closed his mouth and immediately turned away, recoiling further into the couch. He could feel Steve staring at him and forced himself to look at the screen - even though he couldn’t hear the sound or make sense of the images anymore over the turmoil of his own mind.

From the widows, the reporters had moved on to the children. They were all aggressively proud of their self-killed daddies.

“Still” Steve said and his voice was lower, meaning Winter’s words had somewhat shaken things in his head, “I think if we could teach the kids, every kid in the world and away from any government...” His voice became loud again. “I mean seriously, they shouldn’t be proud of their dad!”

Winter slammed his hand on the coffee table so hard that Steve jumped. The brunette rose and stared at his roommate.

“And _you_  shouldn’t be such an asshole.”

He turned away and went directly into his room. He shut the door and locked it. (He was glad that he had insisted on the locks on the first day. Not that Steve seemed to be the type of guy to sneak into people’s bedrooms but he could totally picture him entering in his room to “make things right.” Unnerving.)

The assassin collapsed on his bed, not even bothering to take his combat boots off. Three seconds later, Steve was already pounding on his door, calling for him and profusely apologizing. Winter pressed his palms over his eyes, moaning. Everything, _everything_  in this room reminded him of who he was - or rather, who he wasn’t. A normal human being. Someone with a free will and a free mind.

The Winter Soldier wasn’t buying every lies Hydra was telling him. His Russian part of his mind was certainly not Hydra and therefore proved that there was something outside Hydra. But that was it. Not all lies - but most of them. What the hell was he supposed to do with that? With no memory whatsoever of who he once may have been - except for these scattered bits from his soviet time - and with the constant threat of being punished if he didn’t strictly follow Hydra’s rules and Pierce’s wishes, he was trapped.

The world couldn’t make any sense outside of Hydra anymore.

“Winter, please! Come out! I didn’t mean- I want to talk to you!”

Steve’s voice became more pleading.

“Please, just tell me what I can do for you.”

_Go kill Captain My-Ass so I could finally do my job in peace and quiet._

The door finally opened and as soon as Winter took a step out, Steve wrapped his ridiculous buffed arms around him. The brunette tensed at once but he had managed - as always - to keep his own arms out of the hug so that Rogers only held his torso. His eyes wouldn’t leave his left arm though, because one wrong movement and Steve would discover that it was made of metal and not flesh.

But Steve parted away shortly afterwards and Winter could let his arms fall by his side.

“I’m sorry, Winter.” the blonde said and he looked so damn well sorry with his wet puppy eyes (and how was Winter supposed to react to that now?)

“S’okay” the assassin replied shifting his weight on his feet.

Steve considered him for a moment.

“Can we... play video games?” he asked eventually, lightly blushing.

Winter tucked on his sleeve.

“Which one?”

The blonde grinned gleefully.

“ _Star Wars _.__  I kinda liked it when you were my teammate.”

Winter looked up trying to decipher the blonde’s expression. He was smiling - which could mean a lot of thing - but he was also a bit red on the cheeks. And that, for certain, meant he wanted to do it. Winter had no personal wish to play but making Steve happy was the safest way for him to keep himself from being expelled of that apartment and blowing up his cover.

“Okay” he said.

As they were setting up the game, Steve looked at him with a concern but earnest face.

“You know, if you want to talk about it-”

“Shut up Rogers” the brunette snapped. “For once in your life, focus and try not to die.”

It remained a wishful thinking for Steve accomplished Steveness. But as much as a pain in the ass it was to watch his back (and get killed with him because _no_ , you don’t run towards a grenade, __Steve__ ) like the first time, Winter actually realized that he didn’t mind. In fact, he even caught himself smiling when Steve proudly told him that he had killed one more enemy than the number of times he had died himself.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I remembered this was supposed to be a funny fic. So here, have a funny chapter. (Before I hurt Bucky again eheheh)

That Thursday got to be an ordinary day.

Winter got up at twenty minutes to nine and didn’t bother getting dressed. He just put on a large red sweat-shirt over his loose pajamas pants with tiny happy bears on them. However, he realized he had forgotten his gloves when he closed his bedroom’s door behind him and his hand glittered under the living-room’s light. He quickly shoved his left hand in his belly pocket and moved to the kitchen.

“Mm!” grunted Steve when he arrived - and he chocked on his coffee.

Winter had to wait for the blonde to swallow and put down his mug so he could make a sound more intelligible.

“Morning Winter” he then grinned.

Winter mildly smiled back and poured himself a cup of coffee too. He eyed the little buns that they had brought yesterday, waiting in the fruit basket to be picked up - unfortunately he couldn’t use his other hand to get one. So he had to first lay down his mug on the counter then grab one of the pastry, settling down in front of Steve on the other side of the kitchen counter.

“I think I’ll be out for the day” Steve announced.

He was lazily spinning his spoon inside his mug making a clinging sound everytime it touched the china. There was a empty plate beside his hand but full of crumbs so Winter guessed he was finishing his breakfast rather than beginning it.

“M’too” the brunette answered.

Steve grabbed his plate and his mug with both of his hands and moved around the kitchen counter to put them in the sink. He patted Winter on the back as he moved out and Winter stiffened under the touch.

“Well, then, I’m taking the bathroom for now” Steve said like he hadn’t noticed - he clearly did, because he kept his arms near his body.

“Okay.”

Steve left him to go take a shower and Winter continued to eat. When Steve was out of sight - and having hot water running down on his ridiculously muscular body that Winter was definitely not impressed by - he could finally get his left hand out of his pocket. That was way more convenient for making toasts than with one hand only.

He finished his breakfast and went back to his room. No shower for him - waste of time.

The brunette grabbed his phone and looked at it. He had a new message - from HYDRA obviously. He read it at a glance.

 

_Operation Chemistry - Go._

 

He looked up the time. Fourteen minutes to nine. If Steve hurried up - Winter preferred his friend to be gone before he was - he could be on his way before, let’s say, half past nine. Fifteen minutes - ten if he’d quicken his pace - to reach the University. Thus: he would be there for the ten o’clock break. Just as planned.

That left him with more time than needed to check on his stuff - and get dressed.

 

Steve liked to take a hot shower in the morning - and before going to bed too. Maybe it was because he didn’t have hot water back in the forties. (Well, they did but they wouldn’t have been able to afford that amount of hot waters Steve now treated himself with his thirty minutes showers.) Or simply because of the war - and then the ice.

The blonde loved the sensation of hot water running down in his large body. Recently it surprised him more than ever - how large he was. Being back in Brooklyn, in a apartment he shared with a young man that irrepressibly reminded him of Bucky - it was harder not to wake up and think that it had all been a dream and that he wasn’t simply back to his old life and his old skinny body.

However, Winter might want to take a shower too so Steve eventually exited the bathtub. He opened the room’s door on his side of the apartment and hurried brushing his teeth and combing his short hair. Then he unlocked the other door, grabbed his stuff and retired in his room.

Steve’s bedroom wasn’t as personalized as Steve (but especially Sam) thought it ought to be. He had hung up some old posters - or vintage posters - on the walls, a _Star Wars_  calendar - he really did appreciate that franchise - some of his old drawings and even a few of his recent ones, though he regretted he couldn’t have more leisure time to draw more (maybe he should talk to Winter about drawing together on a planned schedule? That could motivate the two of them). The military habits not dying easily, his bed was always perfectly tidy, no clothes on the floor either or piling up on his desk chair. Everything was right where it belonged - and it gave the room an even more impression of emptiness.

Steve shook his head and those ideas away and opened his closet. His uniform hung right in front of him, not as shiny as the one he wore during the Chitauri’s invasion but still unmistakable. Actually, Steve liked this one better. It was a real combat suit - not just flashy spandex - and very comfortable too. He got dressed in a eye blink and grabbed his iconic shield. He weighted it as he always did, enjoying the feeling. Good old shield.

He opened his door and peeked at the living-room.

“Winter? I’m leaving now!” he called his roommate.

The answer came right away - only muffled by Winter’s own closed door.

“Okay.”

Steve strengthened his grip on his shield and was ready to exit his room when he suddenly heard his friend’s voice once more.

“Have fun.”

It was shyer and in an awkward way that made Steve smiled fondly. He knew his roommate had some social issues but he was also so decidedly working on them.

(At the beginning, Winter didn’t even answer at all, not even when Steve asked him about his day or if he had slept well. He only stared at him for a few minutes before minding his own business in silence. It was kind of hurtful for Steve at first, before he realized Winter didn’t hate him but just had trouble connecting with others.)

Steve didn’t know if it was because of him that Winter was more open now (he wished it was) but he was glad of it nonetheless. And as he crossed the living-room and left the apartment as fast as he could (he had to avoid Winter seeing him in his Captain America uniform) he kept smiling gleefully.

 

Winter heard the front door closing and knew he only needed to wait a few more minutes before he could leave too. He checked his gear one last time. The straps were tight on his chest, nearly hindering him from breathing normally - but tightness meant efficiency or that was what his handlers had told him - his knives were all inside their sheaths and he hadn’t forgotten his guns - one attached on his back and one on his belt. He put on his biggest sweat-shirt and looked on his mirror to check his appearance. The sweet-shirt hid all his weapons and cargo pants along with combat boots weren’t that odd amongst students - especially arts students because they were the oddest, right?

He closed his black guitar case that contained his sniper gun and finally left home, locking up the front door and stowed the key in one of his pockets, beside his phone. He closed his hands on the straps of the guitar case and started walking towards “his” university.

The whole campus was already crowded when he arrived. He checked the time but it wasn’t ten yet. So, there was just half the students laying on the grass despite the weather getting colder each day. Did these students ever go to class or university was just an excuse to keep hanging with their friends after high school? Winter shook his head. He didn’t get it at all and that was none of his problem. He wasn’t even a real student after all - he didn’t take his cover that far.

He crossed the lawns, heading for the science buildings - more specifically the Astronomy one. He knew where the fire escape was - he had studied the blueprints for the past weeks - and where to settle once he was on the roof. He took off his sweat-shirt and opened the rigid black case he had carried on his back (he had been stopped twice because of it - girls who genuinely thought he had brought a guitar and wanted to hear him - hell no), sighing when his eyes fell on his beloved riffle. (HYDRA gave it to him on his first mission for them and he would be very sad if them wanted to take it back.) He put all the parts together as would a flutist do with the three parts of their instrument and moved towards the roof’s edge. He carefully settled the gun and looked through its visor. Wrong window. He lifted his head to identify which window he was supposed to be aiming at on the building across the lawn - the Chemistry building. Then he adjusted his weapon and looked again. Perfect. Now, if his intel was correct, Mr. Ollins would -

His phone buzzed in his pocket.

Dammit! Who the hell could it be? Winter had literally three contacts on his phone. Steve - because of obvious reasons, Sam - who actually gave nice life advice when he wasn’t busy being mean to everyone (Winter didn’t know why he did that but once, he replied “well people prefer white bread to burnt bread you know” when Sam had said something about how pale he looked and the black man just looked at him stunned before bursting out laughing and congratulating him which made Winter even more confused) - and his emergency contact at HYDRA for - well, emergency - extraction (thought Winter suspected he wouldn’t like said extraction). The rest of the time, HYDRA used masked and ever-new numbers to give him his orders. So maybe that was them - but it was weird because he had just received a text in the morning. Did something happened?

Winter sighed and stirred on the roof because _of course_  his phone was on his front pocket and he was laying on his belly. But finally he managed to get it out and looked up. It wasn’t a text from HYDRA at all. It was from Steve. Winter scowled as he pressed on the screen to open the text app - but then a smile blossomed on his face without him even having time to think about it.

The text was actually a picture of Steve. A selfie, more precisely. He had a leather jacket buttoned all the way up on him - Winter had never seen that one before, maybe it was a new one, really similar to Sam’s - and was smiling before a bakery. There was also a short text underneath the picture.

 

_This bakery is very good! We should go there one day! ;) Steve._

 

Winter bit his lips. He turned off his phone but didn’t put it back inside his pocket - rather he mindlessly spun it between his fingers. He tilted his head and looked through his riffle’s visor. The target was yet to be in position. Three more minutes, according to his calculation. Maybe he had time to write something back to Steve...?

Oh, to hell with that! He knew he wouldn’t be able to concentrate if he didn’t reply to him.

He rose up and looked around. The place didn’t look great for a picture. He promptly put back on his sweat-shirt and jumped down - rather than climbed down - the fire exit. At that time of the day, he Astronomy building was casting a shadow where he was standing - of course, because otherwise he would never have chosen that fire exit to access the rooftops in the first place - so he had to walk a bit, towards the Chemistry building and onto the spots of lawn that separated the two of them.

The brunette saw a nice oak tree. He leaned on the back of a bench and raised his phone. He knew how to do it. He snapped the picture and examined it. His face was on the bottom left side, taking one quarter of the whole thing. The oak tree and the lawns and a bit of the Chemistry building could be seen in the background. His finger hovered over the “send” button but then he frowned and decided to take another one. The second shot was identical to the first one except that Winter had poked his hand at the bottom, making the V gesture - he had heard that was a common thing to do on a picture for young people. Now, it was perfect.

The assassin hurried to the roof again and nearly threw himself on the cold, hard ground near his riffle. The target was in position. Winter sent the picture and added a text too - _Chilling out on the campus._ \- and discarded his phone to grab his weapon.

His brain got immediately focused on his mission. His breath steadied and his mind turned blank. Mr. Ollins had grabbed his cup of tea and was loosely leaning on the wall and peeking out of the window. His favorite position - and his favorite activity at every ten o’clock breaks on Monday, Wednesday and Thursday. Winter grinned wickedly. He loved shooting officials - or civvies as a matter of fact. You always knew where they would be. One week of surveillance - two weeks tops - and you had their whole daily pattern. Their whole life pattern. Mr. Ollins was always drinking his tea and standing near this window on Monday, Wednesday and Thursday because these were the days he taught a class on the room 112 from nine to eleven, across that very room Winter was now looking at. At the ten o’clock break, he would go to that room which was empty except for him at that time and looked outside the window, offering himself as a rather neat target.

Through his visor, Winter could see him almost as clearly as if he was standing next to him. His eyes, although on a very old wrinkled face - were so kind there was no doubt he loved each and every one of his students. Probably he was one of the students’ favorite teacher too. Too bad HYDRA wanted to replace him with a professor of their own - Mr. Kong, a tall dry man but with a warm voice that would surely lure some students into HYDRA within the next week. Too bad but none of his business.

The Soldier took the shot.

 

Steve rushed through the living-room, lest that Winter would see him in his Captain America suit. He closed the front door behind him and jumped over the railing. He fell from the fifth floor during one second before the Falcon seized him by his wrists.

“Oh my _god_ ” grunted Sam. “Did you take two breakfasts today?”

Steve grinned at him and didn’t answer, looking back at his apartment that looked smaller and smaller as they rose into the air.

“Also, you know you don’t need to throw yourself out of the roof so I could catch you, right? I’m here precisely to pick you up man.”

This time, Steve lifted his head to meet Sam’s disapproving look.

“Sorry. Way more fun that way.”

They had finally reached the Quinjet that was waiting for them. As soon as they got inside, the bridge closed and the aeroplane activated its camouflage. Steve took off his blue helmet to catch a breath.

“Morning Nat!” he yelled cheerfully at the pilot.

The redhead turned briefly to them.

“Hello Rogers.”

The blonde came to sit next to her and Sam leaned over his seat. Natasha started briefing them way more quickly than Nick Fury would have done - which was why Steve let Nat go to Fury’s briefings alone (and Nat was very angry at him for that because thank you very much Rogers I love having Nick pestering me about how you threw yourself in danger and I should babysit you better than this).

Today’s mission was easy: watch, locate, retrieve.

“Any more details available?” Steve asked.

Nat grinned at him.

“Watch a store, locate the A.I.M. guys going in there, retrieve that weapon they had stolen from Tony yesterday.”

“Wait” said Sam, “they stole one of Tony’s weapons? So why are we on this? Can’t the man handle himself?”

The ex-Russian spy had her eyes locked on the windscreen as she was beginning to land the Quinjet on the roof of a very large, red-brick factory of cigarettes.

“Well, actually, Tony doesn’t really know about that.”

She unlocked her seat belt and rose up. Steve arched one eyebrow.

“What do you mean, not really?”

The redhead was already on the back of the plane.

“Means he doesn’t know he got that weapon. A nice gift when half your company was ruled by a evil man, I guess. Anyway, he’s out of the country for the moment so SHIELD got this.”

She put her hands on her hips.

“Are you coming or what?”

Steve glanced at Sam - they both didn’t like that at all. Nevertheless, the excitation took over as they started their mission. Natasha put on a fake blonde wig and a white long tight dress that went from the top of her neck to her ankles and completely covered her arms too. As she put on gigantic triangle sunglasses, she told Sam his role - watching their backs from above - and Sam took off.

“What am I supposed to do?” asked Steve almost teasingly because if Nat was the best spy on their team, she never wanted to be their leader and even if she didn’t show it, she was always reluctant to give Steve orders.

“As usual. You’re taking me on a date” she replied, pointing at Sam’s jacket.

Steve sighed but eventually laughed a little. He grabbed the jacket and put his shield on his back and then they left the Quinjet for the streets.

Captain America wasn’t exactly discrete but that wasn’t exactly the plan either. Natasha swiftly disappeared inside the crowd and if Steve hadn’t know where to look and who to look, he might not have found her at the terrace of a cosy bakery. The humble shop was all in warm colors, comfy pink with yellow suns and specks of kind blue around the windows. More importantly, it was facing the hardware store SHIELD believed was a cover for some A.I.M. agents. According to their intel, the weapon should end in this store before the end of the day - and before it could be taken to an A.I.M. facility. As the weapon was highly dangerous, Cap’s team had orders to retrieve the weapon only and not try to infiltrate that facility.

“Relax. We may be here for a long time” said Natasha in Steve’s back.

Nat was sitting at one of the terrace’s table with a newspaper wide open in front of her, hiding half her face - her large pink hat covering the other half. She was disdainfully chewing on a gum and from an exterior viewer, there was no difference between that chewing and when she talked.

Steve sat in her back, at an another table, his shield leaned against his chair at his feet and the jacket over the back of his chair. The plan was not for Steve to avoid being spotted. In fact, if a scientist from A.I.M. spotted him, he would chase him right away and through the city so that A.I.M. would think they had lured Captain America away from their business.

Steve couldn’t looked away from the store. Nat told him to stop being that obvious so he got his phone out and played with it instead. At this moment, the waitress also returned and put a coffee and a plate of pastries in front of him. He thanked her and she left with a swift movement of her hips - she might have been in her late thirties but Steve could have bet she would later call her friends and told them with the enthusiasm of a fifteen years old girl how she served _Captain America, yeah at my job, Captain America came to my job, isn’t that the coolest thing ever?_

The blonde ate the pastries without thinking at first but soon, he realized he was eating them with an openly great appetite.

“Enjoying the mission Rogers?” Nat asked and he could almost feel her little grin.

“This is so unfair, guys” chimed in Sam through their earbuds.

“Aw, we’ll save you some, don’t worry little bird” Nat told him.

Steve glanced at the store. A father with his daughter had just got out from there but they weren’t from A.I.M. - well, as far as he could tell. The store was a real one, after all, so real non-undercover people went inside.

“Anything yet?” he asked Sam.

“Nothing.”

Back to waiting. Steve had such an hard time not doing something, especially when he was supposed to be on a mission. Quite frankly, this was not was he was expecting when he let Fury dragged him into SHIELD after the New York attack. The worst thing was, his team couldn’t understand his frustration. Nat was a spy at core and Sam adapted quickly to Peggy and Howard’s organization - sometimes Steve wondered if he would have accepted Fury’s offer if SHIELD hadn’t been founded by Peggy.

He looked down at his plate now nearly empty and started tearing his croissant into bits and putting only the crumbs inside his mouth. Suddenly, he got an idea.

“Don’t worry” he told Nat when he rose up.

He put on Sam’s jacket and took a few steps on the street. As he watched for the cars, he took his phone out and opened the camera. He made sure the bakery’s name was - at least partly - on the picture and took a selfie.

He went back to his place and send the picture to Winter. He thought about going back here with him this week-end. Or maybe, he could go back on his own tomorrow - even this afternoon if they wrapped up mission before the shop closed - and buy a few pastry for their breakfast. Winter seemed to love pastries and Steve could only noticed how much he was willing to do just to see him smile.

“Cap, heads up” said Nat, pulling him out of his thoughts.

He looked up and saw a man staring at across the streets. But not the “wow there’s Captain America over there!” kind of stare. At the same time, their earbuds buzzed as the Falcon warned them:

“There’s a truck coming your way. Front plate missing and back plate... Matches a stolen vehicle.”

“Let’s get that party started” said the redhead soberly while folding up her newspaper.

Cap grabbed his shield.

 

The sun was slackly waning behind the city’s skyscrapers, flooding their flat with dim orange light. They were finishing their dinner, Winter sitting cross-legged on the couch and on his right, Steve with his legs resting on the coffee table - way too close to the oil bottle, in Winter’s opinion. They weren’t watching a movie or anything else on TV because when Steve got home, he found Winter playing at _Star Wars Battlefront II_  and immediately and joyfully joined him until they noticed the time. They paused the game for the duration of their dinner.

“So, how was university today?” Steve asked. “Did anything interesting?”

Winter used his fork to gather his grains of rice scattered all over his plate. He shrugged.

“I just did what I had to. But I... I’m proud. I think I did all right.”

“Really?”

Steve had straightened his position on the couch and put his two feet back on the floor. He looked so happy Winter blushed.

“Yeah, well, you know. It was easy but still. I got it done with precision.”

The blonde winced.

“Precision. I think I lack this. I prefer to launch myself in and hell if it’s not perfect at first, I’ll just go back and just do it ‘till I like the result. You could say it’s a bit messy, yeah.”

Winter frowned but he sat up too.

“I prefer to think it all through beforehand.”

He put down his plate on the coffee table and shoved his hands inside his hoodie’s pockets. His face became more animated and even inside his pockets, his hands were restless.

“I prefer precision. I know I’m not doing it for me-”

“How’s that? That’s your life.”

“Yes, but I was asked to do it.”

“Oh, you mean- Yes, of course, nevermind.”

“The thing is, I like this feeling. You look at your objective, you want to know everything about it. You want to be precise and quick - and proper. Proper is important to me. I don’t really like it when it got spread everywhere. It’s messy. And uncalled for, really. I prefer my way. You calm yourself, breath in, breath out and do it. Everything around you becomes irrelevant. You don’t even think anymore. You don’t need to. ‘Cause your fingers know their way, y’know? And your brain too. No need to ask yourself if you know how to do this. You do it. It’s fast and precise and proper. And then you lift you head and you can look at your good work.”

“You were really proud of what you did today” noticed Steve, impressed - no wonder anymore why Winter was an art student; there was so much passion in his words.

“Nah. Told you: it was easy today. Like basic easy. Like the kind of exercise you could do anytime anywhere and that’s almost insulting too, I guess, but at the same time-”

“It’s nice because it’s simple and you don’t have to think much about it.”

Winter smiled broadly.

“Yeah, exactly.”

He took back his plate to finish the rice and the two vegetables he had forgotten.

“How was your day?” he asked Steve.

The blonde sighed loudly and thought about the attack, the A.I.M. guy he started chasing before he realized he had one helluva gun with him and how Nat and Sam stormed the hardware store and the storekeeper who they think had nothing to do with A.I.M. had actually been waiting for them with three others guys and they too had a helluva guns and really, if Cap’s team didn’t think once there was a chance they wouldn’t be able to make it alive, they did got the frights at the thought the weapon might slip away from them - it didn’t and they didn’t destroy half the block either so close one but mission perfectly accomplished nonetheless.

“A bit hard, too. Like you actually: it was supposed to be easy but we almost made a bit of a mess.”

“Your fault?”

“Hey!” scowled Steve as if he was offended.

Winter shrugged but he could see his little wicked grin - the same one as Nat, in a way. The blonde shook his head and lightly hit his friend in his shoulder.

“Well I hope your teachers were satisfied with what you did today.”

Winter thought about Mr. Kong and the HYDRA operatives that usually dealt with him. His smile broadened.

“Oh they are. For sure.”

He hadn’t had the debriefing yet but it had received a text in the afternoon - _Good job. Stand down. Further instructions soon._ \- that clearly meant he wasn’t going to be put on the chair or punished in an another way for now.

Steve grabbed the two game pads and handed one to him.

“Then, let’s celebrate that by destroying some clones, all right soldier?”

The assassin accepted the pad with a grin.

“Yes, sir.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Winter gets hurt by Cap, Steve has to take care of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I warned you last chapter: enjoy the fun and ligh chapters while they last! (I truly am an horrible person :p)

The fight started in a bad way for Captain America. As a consequence, the fight started in a really good way for the Winter Soldier.

Usually, Cap would run into the Soldier, out of nowhere and preferably when he was already in the middle of another mission. But that time, the Soldier had lured Cap inside an old fabric, confined within a shady neighbourhood with tall buildings and tight spaces between them; no way a SHIELD helicopter or Quinjet or whatever else could land near them to provide back-up to Mr. America-My-Ass. Thus the Soldier felt confident.

The confidence didn’t last long, though. Captain America wasn’t just a pumped up fellow with extra ridiculous muscle under a too-tight suit and with an equally ridiculous colorful Frisbee. He was an honest-to-God true fighter and his shield was no less dangerous than his fists alone. Guns wouldn’t stop him; soon the Soldier had to resort to knives alone. But Cap wasn’t as naive as he might have been for their first two or three fights. He kicked or punched or slammed away his knives with his shield.

The Soldier started running out of knives.

No backup for Cap equaled no backup for him either - Hydra wasn’t so fond of giving their Asset anything more - let alone anyone. The Soldier began to think he might not win this fight. That is, until Cap had him pinned against a wall and was tearing his arm apart with his shield - _then he was sure of it._

The shield was almost cutting all the way through his metal arm, one inch above his elbow - and Cap was pressing on it with all his weight. The wires connected to his veins and then his neurons went all nuts, frying his brain in the process. The pain was unbearable.

“Please, give up” said Captain America.

As always, his voice was full of righteousness and self-confidence and _oh that so despicable_  American sentiment of superiority.

The Soldier clamped his right hand on the shield’s edge - and tried to push it away.

“Not... gonna... happen!”

Suddenly, he delivered a superb kick in Cap’s lower abdomen. Cap stumbled back from the pain recoiling on himself and he took advantage of it to finally toss the shield away from them both. He looked down at his arm; the lost wired/neural connections were still driving him mad and he couldn’t even move his fingers. His arm was useless. Worse: it was a dead weight. And he certainly didn’t need one of those.

The Soldier eyed a dark alley beyond a stained glass that would surely be desert. He jumped, crashed through the window and into the alley. A hurtful groan left him as he landed brutally on the solid concrete. He pressed his broken arm against his stomach and started running.

Captain America didn’t follow him.

*

Winter arrived at their apartment panting and sweating and absolutely ready to black out right here and now on the threshold. Still, he somehow managed to take his key out of his pocket and stepped inside their home. The familiar view of the living-room - the TV and their yellow couch with a empty mug on the coffee table - Steve must have left in a hurry because otherwise he wouldn’t have left it there - soothed him and he felt more relaxed.

He tottered inside his bedroom and reached out for his green hoodie. He put it on, taking extra care with his left arm and then went back to the living-room where he collapsed on the couch. He really didn’t know what do to next - and the continuous ache in his head wasn’t helpful. He figured that his roommate would soon be home so he wiped away his combat kohl around his eyes with his sleeve and shoved his mask in his hoodie’s belly pocket. He also retrieved his elastic from it but he wasn’t going to tie his hair with only one hand so the elastic remained around his wrist. He curled up on the couch, dragging his knees to his chest and resting his forehead on them, trying to take long breath to calm him down.

The front door opened twenty-three minutes later.

“I’m hom- Winter?!”

Steve let his bag slip from his hand and crash on the floor with a loud thunk - Winter had seen his bag a few times already and he had wondered since then what the hell Steve could possibly stuff inside it to make it that heavy - and ran to the couch.

“Winter! What happened? What did you- Oh my God, look at you!”

Steve gently brushed his thumb over his bruised cheekbone and his red cut above his eyebrow, looking as sorry as he ever saw him.

Winter shrugged - then winced at it sent a blast of pain inside his head.

“S'nothin’. I’m- I’m fine. Promise.”

But his roommate was shaking his head resolutely.

“Winter, you are _not_  fine.”

The blonde took a step back to consider his whole appearance. Winter remembered he hadn’t taken off his pants and as unlikely it would be for Steve to know what the Winter Soldier’s pants actually look like (or to even be aware of his existence at all) he had still two guns and a knife stowed somewhere in them that could be discovered at any moment. And that, coming from an art student, would definitely raise some questions.

“Let me see this.”

With a firm grip, Steve pulled at his hoodie obviously to take it off. Winter instantly recoiled even further into the couch and even kicked Steve in the stomach. That was a mistake. He watched with horror as the blonde got pushed away, tripped on the coffee table and nearly fell on the floor. Winter froze in dread.

But Steve stood up and held his hands in a gesture of surrender.

“Winter.”

His bluest eyes was locked on him but he wasn’t frowning or showing any expression that meant he intended to punish him for his rebellious act. Weird. (Could be a trap.)

“Calm down.”

Even if it was a direct order, the brunette couldn’t comply. He slowly shook his head.

“Can’t” he muttered.

Steve frowned - but didn’t move in his direction.

“Why?” he asked with a concerned and softer voice.

Winter stared at him briefly.

“It hurts.”

He didn’t plan on saying this. He didn’t plan to admit his weakness to his roommate. Never show weakness - that was the first rule ever. Never admit you’re in pain because - according to his experience - that would only make the handler more desirous to increase said pain.

His throat tightened as Steve knelt before him and put his hand on the armrest, right next to him. Winter’s eyes flicked from his hand to his face again.

“Where? Where does it hurt Winter?”

Winter looked down at his metal arm that he was still pressing against his stomach in the vain hope that it would stop the wires from short-circuiting his brain relentlessly.

“What happened?” Steve asked when he didn’t get an answer to his first question.

Winter shook his head again.

“Can’t tell.”

The blonde nodded as if he understood.

“Okay, well.”

He rose up and reached out his hand to him.

“I’m taking you to an hospital.”

Winter’s eyes widened.

“What? No! No, you can’t!”

“Winter” said Steve impatiently, “ _you’re in pain_. You need to see a doctor. There’s an hospital not three blocks away. I’m taking you there.”

Winter kept shaking his head but there was nowhere he could flee to. Still, he knew he didn’t need a doctor. He needed a technician. The one at the Hydra’s safehouse would definitely know how to fix him.

(But he didn’t want to go the safehouse. He didn’t like it there. They were all afraid of him so they all wanted to hurt him. Going in with an half-broken arm? No way. He could fix it up by himself. He knew he could.)

He shifted his body a little and the electric shock than ensued in his brain sent stars dancing in front of him and left his whole body numb and exhausted.

Okay. Maybe he couldn’t.

“All right. I’ll go.”

Steve sighed - maybe with relief - and helped him got back on his feet. When they were about to cross the threshold, Winter tried one last time to talk Steve out from accompanying him but the stare he got in return shut him up for good.

*

The hospital wasn’t far away - Steve had been right on this point. But the walk seemed to last an eternity. Even thought his body was burning from inside, the freezing wind blowing that night was sending shivers all over his spine and making him feel like he was about to get iced one again. Every step was hurtful too and he stumbled more than he walked for he couldn’t feel his legs anymore.

But Steve was there.

He carried him all the way, walking by his right, his hand on his wrist as he knew for a while now that his friend didn’t like it when he touched his shoulders. When they arrived at the hospital, he wanted to step inside too and wait for Winter on the entry hall but the brunette refused right away.

“I’ll be fine” he told his roommate.

As the blonde began sulking, he got an idea. He leaned forward and pressed his lips together in a pouting manner - one of Steve’s weaknesses he had figured - and pleaded in a perfectly innocent voice:

“I’ll want a hot chocolate when I got home.”

That might have been the only thing able to send Steve Rogers home. Having him do something for someone else. The blonde stepped closer to him and cupped his chin in his hand - they were so close, they actually realized that Winter wasn’t an inch smaller than Steve, only thinner (and that was where that wrong impression came from).

“Okay. I’ll get everything ready for you when you get back. But text me when you’re out of here.”

“I will.”

With one last longing stare that Winter couldn’t quite decipher, Steve parted and turned back. Winter watched him for a few seconds then entered the building. With a sideways glance, he noticed that his roommate had indeed turned again to be sure he was inside the hospial. Winter waited ten minutes and then left.

*

The safehouse was halfway between their home and the hospital. The trip to it took forever too but Winter didn’t feel like he could collapse at any moment anymore. Either his supersoldier’s healing had already started to replace his dead brain cells with non-yet-fried ones or he had grown used to the pain. Either way, he just felt more aware than ever of his miserable situation. He wanted Steve by his side so bad. But all he was getting was Hydra.

Before he entered the safehouse, he checked that his phone had been turned off since the hospital (it had) and then knocked on the door using the secret and correct rhythm. The door opened and he was led into a dark, small room with only one chair and a thin metallic shaky table on which stood a lamp that blinded him immediately. He sat down and when the door got closed behind him, he saw the two officers in charge of him across the table.

“Mission report, soldat.”

Winter sighed pitifully.

“Please, my arm needs fixin’. It hurts...”

“Mission report” the man repeated as if he hadn’t hear.

“ _Please _.__  It hurts.”

The officer slammed his hand on the table almost sending the lamp on the floor. Winter jumped.

“Mission report, soldat!”

Winter stared at the officer’s hand for a moment with wide eyes. Then his stare went blank and all his features fell into a mask of general indifference. With a dull voice, he told his handlers about the fight that had happened earlier. How he successfully led Captain America into his trap. But how - unfortunately - he was not match for his enemy. He narrated how Captain America nearly split his arm in two as a surgeon would narrate the process of his operation. Precisely. Concisely.

Properly.

When he was finally done, the officers called in three soldiers who escorted him to the lab. No operation table. Only the chair. He took off his clothes - his hoodie along with his combat gear and he climbed on it. He watched without seeing as the Hydra soldiers strapped him tightly on it, leaving only his left arm unrestrained. The technician took his chair and his rolling table with his tools to him and started to operate.

No anesthesia.

The pain was so vivid, so blinding that it brought Winter back. And he screamed. He wore his lungs down screaming because the straps - they were so tight he couldn’t even move his ankle or his wrist and he wished he could have, he wished they’d allowed him to wriggle and struggle and release the pain through the agitation of the rest of his body, he wished they would have been _kind_  to him in some way - because there was nothing he could do but scream. And scream, scream, _scream_.

Scream in a brightly-lit room with a technician cutting through the wires inside his arm and the soldiers with their rifle all around the whole place and the others doctors watching him with a cruel curiosity.

He screamed for death.

*

When they were finally done with him and had released him, he found himself so exhausted and worn out that he only managed a couple of steps before collapsing on the hard ground. He took him several minutes to come to his senses again. He tucked on his hoodie to help it fit better over his combat gear and fumbled in his pocket for his phone. He was too close of the safehouse, though. He had to walk back to the hospital before he could safely turn it on again. Then he sent a quick text to Steve - _Coming home._  - and started heading for his apartment. Home.

*

As expected, Steve had been waiting for him. He didn’t know how long he was gone and tried not to show surprise when he realized the operation had lasted over three hours. (To him it had been an endless series of blacking out and waking up and going back again because of the pain but time always seemed to last longer than it really did in these moments.) But to be honest Steve himself didn’t think that was surprising.

When he opened the front door, the blonde jumped to his feet and dashed to him and hugged him so tightly - and warmly - that Winter had tears coming up in his eyes.

“Welcome back” Steve murmured softly.

He then led him to the couch, helped him sit down and disappeared to the kitchen island. He came back not long afterwards with a hot chocolate and a chocolate cake that he had obviously cooked while Winter was gone.

“Hope it’s edible” the blonde chuckled. “It’s been a long time since I had made that one. It was my mom’s recipe” he added, blushing.

Winter took a bit of it under the intense stare of his roommate - and melted. To be true, it was fucking good. But what made it the absolute best was that feeling he got when his mouth got filled with it. That feeling of being home. As if he hadn’t eaten that particular cake in a really, really long time. And that, too, brought tears to his eyes. He quickly wiped them away with his sleeve.

“So... How are you feeling? Better?”

“Yeah.”

Steve rose back in a brisk movement - he couldn’t seem to settle between siting up or pacing the room.

“I probably have some painkillers somewhere. Do you want me to-?”

“M’fine.”

The blonde sat back, really stiff, as if Winter had knocked the air out of him. Yet, he didn’t remain quiet very long.

“Can I comb your hair?” he blurted.

Winter stared at him blankly and blinked a few times.

“Wha-?”

Steve lifted his hand and gently pulled back one of his strands behind his ear.

“Your hair. It’s a mess. Can I comb it?”

Winter didn’t know how to reply. Hell, he didn’t even know how he felt about that. But Steve was taking care of him right now and obviously, he was thinking about it as another way to take care of him - like the chocolate cake. So why not?

“F’you want” he replied warily but not shyly.

Steve smiled and rose up. He went to the bathroom and came back with a long black comb. (Winter raised an eyebrow; he usually used a hairbrush because he thought that was the quickest way.)

His roommate went behind him and leaned on the back of the couch. The brunette sat up, his feet on the ground and his palms on his laps waiting perfectly still. His heart was beating a bit fast but he tried to calm down. The man wasn’t going to hurt him.

Steve wasn’t going to hurt him.

The blonde commenced by gathering the strands hanging before his eyes. Winter flinched when his fingertips brushed against his forehead. Then he actually starting combing his hair. He took one strand between his fingers and patiently worked the comb down it until he had untied all the knots.

Without realizing it, Winter began to relax. He sat askew on the couch so he could cross his arms on its edge and rest his chin on them. Steve’s belly was less than a few inches from his face and he felt the sudden urge to lean his head on this belly. He uncoiled one of his arm and tugged on Steve’s shirt so as to pull him closer. Steve got the message and moved closer. Winter put his cheek on the fabric of Steve’s blue shirt and closed his eyes, focusing on both the warm feeling and the blonde breathing in and out. It was a soothing rhythm to follow. And Steve’s fingers were still running through his hair now completely untangled - shouldn’t he have stopped by now? Winter couldn’t figure out why he hadn’t but he felt his chest tightened at the idea of Steve stepping away. _Just a little more, please._

“Everything’s gonna be fine, Winter. Don’t worry. I’m here.”

It almost seemed like Steve could hear his thoughts. His voice was so smooth and so kind. It was as if his voice alone could make his whole operation from earlier get forgotten forever. Better than the chair.

Eventually, Winter dozed off. He jolted back up when his primary survival instincts took over thus managing to stay awake long enough for him to go back to his bedroom - after Steve had let go of him and wished him a good night - and to take off his hoodie and his whole combat gear. He even successfully got into his pajamas. The moment his head hit the pillow, thought, he was already asleep.

*

On the morning after that, he woke up to find Steve pushing the couch against the door in a way that clearly prevented both of them to leave the apartment. (With wasn’t a pleasant thought so soon in the morning - he hated being trapped somewhere.) The blonde had also nudged the coffee table in a corner of the room so that the living-room was one big empty space.

“Oh hi Winter!” he exclaimed when he noticed the blank stare of his friend. “Did you sleep well? How’s your arm today?”

The brunette mildly shrugged.

“Fine.”

He decided that he needed eating before he could question his roommate - luckily, there was plenty of the chocolate cake left from yesterday.

“Why are you doing this?” he asked while shoving one quarter of the cake in his mouth - God, had that thing gotten even better since the previous evening?

Steve put his hands on his hips and offered him a beaming smile.

“To give us some space for our training.”

“Training?”

Well, then. Sounds like he also needed coffee. (Steve always made coffee for two; it wasn’t even tepid. Good.)

Meanwhile, his roommate had come to lean against the kitchen counter and was staring at him with his excited puppy eyes - and if Winter had ever learned anything about Steve Rogers, this was nowhere near a good omen.

“Listen. I thought about it a lot and I- I can’t just stay put while you’re getting beating up like that. No, listen I said!”

Winter stopped groaning and looked up at his roommate between his dark hair, trying to figure out the hell he meant before Steve could even explained his idea to him.

“I want to train you. Help you defend yourself - if you won’t accept my help directly. I mean, obviously, I won’t have you fight me today. Just show you some moves, okay?”

His adorable puppy eyes. Why the hell did Winter felt suddenly so funny in his stomach watching that pair of eyes staring at him? He couldn’t think straight anymore. But surely, he could always use some more training.

“Okay.”

“Awesome!”

Steve actually achieved to wait till the brunette had finished his breakfast - but Winter had already accepted the fact that he wasn’t going to take a shower for now.

They settled themselves in the middle of the living-room. First, Steve decided to show him how to kick someone at shoulder-high. Of course, he stopped himself long before he could have actually touched him but Winter had already raised his hand to grab his leg out of his combat reflexes. Remembering that his roommate had clearly stipulated he was only to show him moves, he started to panic but then he noticed the sparkles in Steve’s look. The blonde tried another move, as slow as the first one, but he didn’t stop and let Winter adjust his position in order to block him more effectively. Steve smiled again and tried something else. Winter was starting to feel excited too. That was more fun than defeating dozens of barely trained Hydra canon-powder.

And definitively way more fun than fighting that utter jerk of Captain America.

 


	5. Chapter 5

Steve thought he was going to die - and there was nothing he could do about it. It was a visceral feeling, one he hadn’t felt in a really long time. It went all the way back before he received the serum. Sure, Captain America had fought Death itself and sometimes he even faced it from so close, everyone said it was a miracle afterwards - not to mention his eighty years under ice. After Bucky died, Death was a familiar companion he - let’s face it - openly craved for sometimes. When he joined the Avengers, each battle seemed only bigger than the precedent and they were all aware their death meant everyone else’s. So Death was part of the job, you could say. Death was the one silhouette he waved at gleefully everytime he jumped off a plane without a parachute. Or rushed into a fight with evil robots and a simple shield as a weapon.

Cap wasn’t trying to get killed - he only wanted to know where his limits were. And maybe he’d just met them.

Every punch he tried, the Soldier blocked him. Every escape he attempted, the Soldier stopped him. Every attempt, every single move got predicted - and blocked. How did he even achieve that? How did he even become that good in less than a week? (But that was definitively a question for another time - if he ever survived that fight.) Another kick and Cap got sent to the hard cold ground. What could he do? Beg for mercy? The Winter Soldier didn’t have mercy. As a matter of fact, he didn’t have emotions at all. Cap rose again, panting and feeling blood in his mouth coming from the deep cut on his upper lip.

“I could do this all day” he said.

That was wrong. The Soldier had already taken care of his shield - they were fighting on the docks and he had sent it all the way down into the dark waters. In retaliation, Cap had managed to take the Soldier’s guns out of the picture, but he still got his knives. And those moves. Who taught him those moves? It was like fighting another self - except that this self was evil and didn’t only knew how to block but also how to attack. Steve was beginning to think he was going to die. It was the same, helpless feeling than when he used to be lying in bed, hit by the flue or pneumonia or whatever else his fragile body felt like surrendering to and all Steve could do was wait to see if it was going to be his last sickness or not. There was nothing else to do - just wait for Death to come.

But suddenly, everything changed - and for the best. A SHIELD helicopter roared in the sky, promptly followed by the swift sound of Sam’s wings.

“We’re here!” yelled Natasha.

Sam was holding her by her armpits and she opened fire at soon as she could spot the dark figure of the Winter Soldier - and she had really good eyes. The Hydra assassin took flight right away but not before he could leave a little gift of his own - a miniaturized bomb. Natasha cuddled with Cap and Sam protected them both with his wings. The breath of the explosion felt like a punch in the gut but fortunately, they survived.

And Steve finally passed away.

* 

Winter was happy. Well, “happy” might not have been the right word. He still had trouble putting a word on the things he was feeling inside. So he would say that he was feeling pride for his skills plus restfulness from Hydra’s pressure being lower plus this nice thing he felt when he was playing videogames with Steve and they smiled at each other. Overall, his whole body - though aching from the fight earlier on the day - seemed lighter. Winter almost caught himself hoping along the street. Ridiculous. But relevant somehow?

The brunette stopped when he arrived at the door of his home. He looked down at the plastic bag in his left hand, all bulky and heavy from the (too) many mandarins it contained. Mandarins were good for the body during the month of January and - to top it all - they tasted delicious. Not as sweet as plums but Winter was definitely all over the moon for them, too. And he got so excited by his Hydra debrief that went so well that he thought he deserved to be rewarded. Of course, Steve also liked mandarins so he had brought plenty for them to eat together. He switched the bag in his other hand so he could retrieve his keys when he finally realized there was light coming from under the threshold - meaning Steve was already back. Fortunately, he had one of his hoodie on him - they had called him in a hurry so he was in civvie before he got into the fight with Captain America. He brushed his sleeves over his eyes to wipe off any remaining combat kohl and then walked into the apartment, showing off his bag with excitation.

“Steve, it’s me! You’re never gonna believe what hap-”

Blood. On the floor. And the carpet - and some drops on the couch too. Winter fell quiet right away. He put the bag of mandarins on the countertop and followed the red trail while taking one of his knife out. When he made it to Steve’s door, he heard weak moaning. Immediately, his own blood started rushing through his veins and he found himself pounding on Steve’s door.

“Steve! Steve! Are you all right? Can I come in? Please, answer me!”

A muffled voice came out of the room.

“Winter? You’re... Yes, come in.”

The brunette put his knife away and stepped inside the bedroom, not looking at its impeccable tidiness or the otherwise complete lack of customization.

“Oh God” he said when he spotted his roommate bleeding out on his bed.

*

The young man helped Steve settled on the couch - he winced nonetheless when his aching butt hit the cushions.

“Take it easy” said Winter.

He helped him got rid of his navy blue shirt and they both looked down at his bleeding side. Winter shook his head.

“I can’t believe- How are you not even in a hospital right now?” he asked switching to his hissing tone that he had been using more often lately - in fact, every time he had noticed that Steve “please Winter eat something” Rogers hadn’t even touched his own food yet.

Steve wriggled, trying to hide a laugh that would hurt his bruised thoracic cage. He remembered passing out and waking up in a SHIELD infirmary with Sam, Nat and even Fury surrounding him. Sam reassured him about his shield - agents were looking for it as they were talking. He also insisted to take him to a proper hospital (and Nat backed him up) but as soon as the blonde had debriefed by Nick, he had asked to be taken home. He thought his injuries were only superficial.

Apparently, they weren’t.

“Listen, Winter, you don’t have to worry. Really, I’ll be fine in no time.”

Considering all the hard times he had gone through whether it was during the WWII or with his Avengers business, there had never been an injury one week of rest hadn’t been enough to overcome. He’d have to take it easy for four or five days and then it would be just fine. Hell, a break was probably what he needed most: lately, he had felt like he was rushing through traps on top of traps. It was high time he took a closer look on the Winter Soldier’s file once more.

“Whatever. Ain’t gonna leave you like this” mumbled his friend.

Winter rose and went to the bathroom. He came back shortly afterwards with the first-aid kit and a basin he had filled with lukewarm water. Slowly, he began to clean Steve’s wounds. The blonde winced but the pain was already lighter than an hour ago. Without really realizing what he was doing - pain was an excuse - he brushed through Winter’s hair, wrapping his fingers around his somber, soft strands. Winter looked up.

“You had a good day?” Steve asked as if this situation was perfectly casual.

The brunette looked away and he frowned.

“Bad day?”

Winter shook his head.

“No. Not like this. Actually... it’s quite the contrary.”

“Oh.”

Steve tried to sit up, groaned and gave up. Meanwhile, Winter grabbed the rolls and bandaged his torso, wearing his so-serious face. Their heads were only a few inches away and Steve felt blushing for no reason. He needed to focus on something else - that would also distract him for the pain.

“Want to tell me?”

Winter cut the bandage roll and made a tidy knot.

“I’m all ears.”

The brunette finally locked his gaze on him and a smile blossomed on his face - Steve mirrored it instantly because that shy smile was what he had been expected to see for the whole day (though he wouldn’t admit it). His friend helped him getting back into his shirt then he adjusted the cushions and wrapped him into a blanket without minding his protests. Eventually, he sat up on the other side of the couch, his back against the armpit. Their feet lightly touched at the middle of the couch. Winter rested his chin on his knees and told him about his day - presumably at the University because he didn’t say otherwise and Steve had gotten used to him just saying “they” to refer to his teacher and his classes in general.

“They were so proud of me today. They told me I would surely finish my work tomorrow. My main work I mean.”

“You’ve been working on this for a long time?”

“Yes. Since the beginning of the year. I thought it’d take much less time but- Anyway, they told me they were really proud of me and they congratulated me.”

Steve’s smile brightened. Winter had always appeared to lack self-confidence. Whenever they talk about his work, he’d always talk about it in a way that made Steve realize that his skills was above average but at the same time, he seemed unsure about how people saw and reacted to these skills. Thus the blonde was glad his teachers congratulated him.

“That’s amazing, Winter. Really. What’s the subject?”

His face darkened.

“Can’t tell.”

And he recoiled on his side of the couch. Steve let out a faint sigh. Of course. Winter never spoke about his paintings - nor did he ever show one to him. It made Steve so upset - but he understood nonetheless. Back in the forties, he didn’t show all his drawings to Bucky either. Winter was just shy and he shouldn’t push him.

“Sorry. I just- What I mean is, I hope you’ll be proud of the result. That’s the only thing that matters.”

Winter slowly nodded. Then, he burst on his feet sounding all excited again.

“I brought mandarins to celebrate!”

Steve giggled.

“I love mandarins!” he replied.

He watched Winter heading to the kitchen counter and pouring all the soft orange fruits in their fruit basket then testing each and every one of them with his left hand. He finally settled on two of them. He grabbed a towel and came sitting on the coffee table, next to Steve, after moving said table to be closer to his friend. He spread the towel over his laps and started peeling the first mandarin. His moves was as efficient as usual. When he got one piece, he lifted it to Steve’s mouth and the blonde laughed again.

“I’m not that disabled, you know!”

Winter stared back at him.

“Shut up and eat Rogers.”

So Steve obediently opened his mouth. The fruit was perfectly ripped and his juice was sweat and refreshing. Winter peeled another slice. He opened his mouth again but the brunette ate it without looking at him. He got the next one, though. And the fifth one too. They ate the first mandarin then the second without speaking. When they were done and there were orange peelings all over the towel, Winter wrapped it up so none would escape and rose up.

“I’ll make dinner tonight” he announced. “Whaddya want?”

Steve shrugged.

“Anything will do.”

Winter stared at him like he was trying to decipher a coded message from his whole behaviour.

“I know what I can make you.”

Steve didn’t know what he meant but the brunette was already behind the kitchen counter making dinner. Steve was willing to help but knew he couldn’t - he didn’t even trust himself to carry the plates from the cupboard back to the coffee table. He would have settled with his current book - a novel from Virginia Woolf that he found most interesting - but alas, it was in his room. He couldn’t rise up to get it and there was no way he’d ask Winter to get it for him. So he turned on the TV with a sigh. At least, the mindless shows would ease that guilt of his.

When dinner was ready, he turned the TV off and smiled at Winter bringing the food - a huge bulk of pasta with meatballs in it. It was good but there was more: the brunette had made pastries for dessert. They were cones made of dough and covered with glistening sugar and filled with a green cream. It smelled strong mint and tasted beautifully.

“What’s that?” he asked.

Winter answered with words he couldn’t quite catch but the sonority of it was somehow familiar.

“Is it from-?”

“Russia.”

Steve blinked. A thought just occurred to him, something that he had never truly paid attention to.

“Winter, you’re... Are you Russian?”

It was painful how little Steve had cared about that - yet, Winter swore a lot in Russian. Not to mention his whole set of expressions like “Stalin’s boots.”

“Maybe.”

Well, that wasn’t much of an answer really, wasn’t it? But Winter was getting joyful again, grabbing one of the creamed cones and shoving half of it in his mouth.

“Andrea taught me how to cook them. ‘Course, they’re not s’posed to have mint in them. But that was his secret ingredient. Always made them when I got beat up. Sayin’ that you can put bandages all you want or drink all the vodka in the world but really, you need _trubochka s kremon_  if you want to heal properly.”

Steve wasn’t naive - that was the second time of the day that Winter had hijacked the conversation. The blonde didn’t know what to make of that. The guy could simply be over-shy. Or he could hide something. Steve didn’t want to believe that this something could mean bad things - no, Winter seemed like a nice guy. It was more of a feeling that that the brunette had something he should share with him. It hadn’t gone unnoticed by Steve how Sam talked in a low voice around him. (It was pretty clear that Sam knew what was up actually. Steve and he would have to talk about that later.)

“That Andrea... He’s a friend from University?”

It didn’t sound like it. The way Winter had talked about him, it seemed there had been a fair amount of time since the two of them had seen each other.

“No...”

Winter shook his head and chewed at the rest of his cone.

“He was... I think... Actually I don’t know. He yelled at me a lot but he also took care of me. Yeah, I mean, we were _komrades_.”

“So you grew up in Russia?”

The brunette tilted his head.

“No. I lived there. But I didn’t grow up there.”

“Where did you grow up then?”

A faint sly smile twisted his lips.

“Brooklyn.”

“Like me!”

Steve felt something hot inside him - suddenly Winter felt more familiar than ever. He wanted to go on and brag about good ol’ Brooklyn when he remembered Winter never knew that Brooklyn. That Brooklyn, the Brooklyn he grew up into was gone for quite a lot of years now. He had barely recognized it when he had come back for the first time and he still got lost sometimes.

They both fell in a not-quit-but-almost awkward silence. Eventually, Steve started dozing off. His super-healing was taking a lot of energy out of him - if the fight alone hadn’t been enough to exhaust him. He yawned and nearly didn’t hear Winter.

“Want me to read to you?”

He was staring at him but in a wary attitude. It was an odd request but Steve figured he couldn’t do anything else but listening - given he wouldn’t fall asleep right at the beginning - while he also wanted to enjoy Winter’s presence a little more.

He smiled.

“I’d love to. But first help me get back into my bed OK? I know you’d feel bad if I start sleeping on the couch.”

So Winter helped him rise on his feet then led him into his bedroom. While Steve made himself somewhat comfortable - he traded his jeans for his pajamas pants but couldn’t force himself to remove his shirt (his ribcage hurt too much) - Winter went to his own room to fetch a book. He came back with two; a novel and one considerably smaller. Steve patted the mattress next to him and Winter took off his shoes to climb into the bed.

“So? What are you going to read me?”

The brunette stared at the small book. His right hand was fidgeting nervously with the corners. Steve looked upon and saw that it was a collection of Anna Akhmatova’s poetry. Obviously, talking about Russia had opened a door Winter was more than willing to let him walk through - although he acted reluctant as anyone would be, talking about something his friend had no natural connection to.

“Anna Akhmatova?” Steve asked with a bright enthusiasm, “I have heard so much of her but I’ve never found the time to actually read her! This is an excellent idea Winter.”

He wriggled further under the sheets and put his arm between his head and the pillow so he could clearly see his friend. Winter blushed briefly but his smile told Steve what he needed to know - and the brunette started reading.

His voice was deeper but smooth. His edition was a bilingual one allowing him to first read the poem in Russian then the translation and he put so much thoughts on both versions that Steve could almost understand the poems without the need for English. As time went by, Winter got colder and snuggled too under the blankets. Steve had closed his eyes. His need for sleep had vanished and he simply enjoyed the sound of Winter’s voice and the peacefulness of their apartment. It was good.

Eventually, Winter finished the short collection of poems. He put down the book on the bedside table, on top of the American novel he had brought in case Steve had refused to hear more Russian things. More minutes passed and Steve nearly fell asleep. He woke up with a stroke when Winter suddenly blurted:

“I think there’s a traitor within SHIELD.”

Adrenaline started rushing through his veins and Steve sat up, leaning on his elbow and ignoring the pain at his side.

“Why would you-? How do you-? Wha-”

He swallowed.

“I, er, don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He wasn’t fooling anyone. Winter gave him a smirk that made it clear enough. However he explained himself.

“Why did you get beat up that badly?”

Steve shrugged - and God, it hurt.

“Because the, er, the guy I was fighting seemed to know my every move.”

“Exactly.”

Winter pulled his knees to his chest and chewed on his right thumb.

“I don’t understand” Steve said, “I mean, how could he know all my moves? Sure, we had fought against each other a few times before, but today it was like he had received a special training especially to beat me!”

“You’ve got SHIELD training” Winter cut him off. “Which means you don’t train alone, am I right?”

Steve nodded.

“Yeah but I only trained with Sam and Nat.”

He blushed - _and with all the other Avengers too_. But Winter didn’t know about them (and didn’t need to). In fact, he hadn’t met Natasha yet.

Winter suddenly gazed at him.

“Are you that naive you think SHIELD doesn’t record all your training sessions?”

Steve opened his mouth to answer... and shut it close. That did sound like a SHIELD thing to do. Even when he trained at the Avengers Tower, what could make him certain nobody was watching? Fury was at the origin of the Avengers initiative after all. Maybe Stark allowed him to have a look at what they were doing inside the Tower. The blonde shivered. The thought of having his life so closely monitored didn’t make him feel good.

His friend seemed to get what he was thinking because he softened his voice.

“Don’t worry. I think it’s just the work of one double agent. You just need to find them and it’ll be over. And meanwhile, you can learn new moves so their work will become useless.”

Steve nodded slowly.

“Yes, you’re right.”

He settled back on his pillow and waved at Winter to do the same. After a few seconds of hesitation, the brunette also lay down and rested his head on the pillow, thus being separated from him by little distance.

Steve was already thinking about whom he should ask to teach him new moves. Maybe Natasha with her Red Room training? Or Stark - Stark was a disaster without his armor but still, he had learned some martial art. And maybe Thor could help him to use his shield in new ways?

But something bugged him.

“How do you know I’m with SHIELD?”

Winter rose an eyebrow.

“You’ve got a jacket with its logo on the sleeve. You wore it last Tuesday.”

“Oh.”

He blushed again - and was glad that Winter had switched the light off so he couldn’t see it. Meanwhile, his friend kept smiling lightly until he openly burst out laughing.

“God you’re such an idiot! How are you even still alive?”

Steve laughed too.

“You’re reminding me of someone.”

The brunette squinted his eyes.

“Someone nice?” he asked warily.

Steve’s smile broadened.

“My best pal.”

Winter snuggled a bit closer to him.

“How was he?”

Steve tried to act as if he was coming up with a thoughtful answer. Finally, he smirked wickedly.

“A real pain in the ass. Always telling me I shouldn’t pick up fights with men twice my size-”

“You shouldn’t.”

“There! Exactly him! You even got his eyebrows!” the blonde replied half offended and half chuckling.

His smile vanished though when he added:

“Maybe you’re right and I shouldn’t. But the world needs someone to do it anyway.”

Winter didn’t answer.

Steve closed his eyes and rapidly fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed that chapter as much as I put effort into it! (Seriously, I just started reading an anthology of Akhmatova and the only thing I crave for is those trubochka. #WriterProblems)


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> According to my notes, we have officially entered "chapter 5" - which is, as for today, six chapters long. Yay. I've named it "Natasha and Sam babysit our two boys who won't stop being stupid and fight each other." Also, I'm pretty sure Sharon was here somewhere but I can't find her anymore. Oh, well, that's life I guess.

Winter was coming.

Not in the sense of the latest season of Game of Thrones that Sam had - finally - talked Steve and Winter into watching - but in the sense of snowstorms becoming more and more frequent. Some days, they’d even have to take a shovel and get rid of the snow for the whole building (Steve was eager to help, Winter was eager to do good beside Steve and the old ladies within the building were eager to reward the two of them with hot chocolates and homemade cookies).

For the Winter Soldier, it meant that missions were becoming harsher and harsher - with sharp wind blowing into his face when he was high up there, on the rooftop of some building taking a shot at yet another one of his targets.

For Captain America, it meant that the track of the HYDRA assassin was becoming harder and harder to follow - if he was previously a ghost, now he was not even a pale figure sometimes spotted at the edge of an edifice.

(Steve - and HYDRA - were both unaware of Winter staring contemptuously at his white gear that made him invisible - _but he hated white dammit!_ )

Their fights had also increased in violence. The two super-soldiers might run hot in the inside, it was all but high discomfort being thrown in the half melt snow, the dirty mud, the large icy ponds along the streets or on the rooftops or at the corner of a black alley. They came back home chilled to the bone, nearly catching a cold after each fight and finding only solace in each other - because whether it was Steve or Winter coming back home first, they never failed to piled up blankets on the couch and get a hot drink ready for when the second would cross the threshold.

Steve believed that Winter spent too much time outside - maybe due to his recent project which was about nature and landscapes and Winter harassed Steve to stop going on missions because obviously the traitor within SHIELD was still there and he was too undressed anyway.

February was a cold month but they kept each other warm. Until that one morning.

 

Steve was coming home and back from the groceries - and struggling to do so. Fury had called him very early - it wasn’t even seven in the morning when he got the text and his extraction five minutes later - but the lead they had followed turned out to be a dead end so he figured he could just as well do the groceries (Winter was supposed to be on duty for it yesterday but the poor boy had caught a flue and Steve fought to have him stay home). Alas, he didn’t plan for the wind to start blowing so strongly and so icily. By the time he had everything they needed packed in three plastic bags, the weather was so bad even he couldn’t see on the other side of the road.

When he finally made it near their apartment lot, he spotted a lonely figure sitting on the metallic stairs, next to their door. It’d suddenly vanished out of his sight everytime the wind got stronger and nothing could be seen but white dots and gray sky - yet Steve noticed how the silhouette remained perfectly still.

The blonde frowned and bounced up the stairs.

His eyes went wide and his heart started racing when he eventually figured out who the person was.

“Winter?! For Christ’s sake, what are you doing here!”

The brunette sat on the last step, his gaze lost in the horizon and not even wearing a coat. His hands were wrapped in his usual black gloves but his right arm was shivering. His nose was red and running and his hair almost standing in its own, frozen. How long had he been there for shit’s sake?

Steve dropped his bags to the ground and hurried towards him, putting one knee on the one step below so he could look up at him. Without hesitation, he grabbed Winter’s right hand with his left but let the other rest on the boy’s lap - it had been long enough since they moved in together than Winter had no more need to keep his left side away from Steve’s whole habit of hugging and holding hands and stuff. Steve did it already by himself. This didn’t mean, however, that his grip wasn’t strong - it was as strong as his growing worry towards the lack of reply from his friend.

“Winter? Can you hear me? Please, Winter, answer me!”

Steve kept staring at the brunette until this one, eventually, shrugged, as if he was waking up from a dream. His blue eyes blinked a few times before they settled on Steve’s. Recognition then happened and a fragile smile blossomed on his face.

“Steve?”

And Steve’s heart broke. This whole gaze, his lips so thinly parted - and so colorless from the cold - his feeble, unsure voice when he asked “Steve” - and at the same time, that underlying happiness - it was Bucky. It was so fucking Bucky when Steve had rescued him from the POW camp at Azzano, it hurt too much and his heart broke.

Because the blonde didn’t want his roommate slash new best friend to see what turmoil he was finding himself in, he simply bent forward and held him tight. Winter got taken aback but soon he returned the hug and buried his face into Steve’s neck.

After a few seconds, Steve parted and grabbed his hand.

“Come on. Let’s get you home.”

He helped him get back on his feet, seized his bags of grocery in only one hand and opened them the door to the apartment. Winter went to slump into the couch right away while Steve put the bags down on the kitchen counter - he’d deal with them later.

“Can I make you something? Hot chocolate maybe?”

Winter didn’t reply. Steve looked up and saw that he was now trembling from all over his body. Steve ran to him and put his hand on his forehead.

“Oh God, Winter, you’re burning. Why have you done that?”

This was supposed to be a rhetorical question but Winter answered nonetheless - to Steve’s surprise.

“I don’t know” he said biting his lips.

Steve frowned. He opened his mouth but shut it up quickly and instead chewed on his inner cheek. That would be a question for another time. For now, he had to take care of his friend. He hauled him up, pulling on his sleeve that was now dripping from the snow melting.

“Come on, we have to get you in other clothes, these ones are too damp!”

But the brunette refused and shook his head vigorously.

“Why?” Steve asked.

Winter looked down sheepishly at his left arm. Only then Steve noticed how perfectly still it stood by Winter’s side. His brow furrowed.

“Is that so bad? Do I need to take you to a hospital?”

Again, Winter denied - with a slight touch of irritation.

“No, I’m fine.”

Steve tilted his head. “Fine” was certainly not the word he would have used. But he knew how stubborn his friend could be - actually, almost as much as he was himself - so if Winter didn’t want to get to the hospital, nothing would take him there.

“OK, I’ve had enough” he said, “go get your pajamas, I’m gonna run you a bath.”

Steve stood, watching Winter going to his bedroom before he himself headed for the bathroom. He decidedly turned the tap to the hottest and waited till the bath was half filled with boiling water. Only then did he began to cool it down a bit until he figured he had found the perfect - manageably hot - temperature. Winter arrived at this instant, carrying his stuff with one hand and not having taken off even his sweater.

They both stood, in expectation.

“Oh, for God’s sake, Winter!” Steve finally blurted, mildly annoyed, “start undressing already!”

The man shook his head.

“Privacy.” he replied.

Steve cocked his eyebrow and conspicuously eyed Winter’s left arm. He didn’t say a world, however. The brunette had to wriggled himself between him and the bath so he could settle his stuff on the chair next to it - and devoted for this sole purpose of supporting both their clothes and the towel as they had, brilliantly, figured out they should put the hooks next to the doors which meant way out of reach for someone inside the bathtub. Then Winter proceeded to undress, starting from his pants. But his left arm still wouldn’t move and he fumbled with the button of his pants not being able to unbutton it.

Steve sighed and did it. His roommate let him help him through the rest of his pants and also his big combat boots but he put up a fight again when the blonde touched the fabric of his hoodie.

“I can do it myself!” he hissed, “you can leave now!”

Steve felt something hot burning inside him. It was as if he was fed up with Winter’s shit while a muffled desire crawled under his skin.

“Winter, I can see you _dick_! What else would you be ashamed of?”

Obviously, the brunette hadn’t thought of that himself because red covered his whole face and his hand flew to his crotch to cover the light bulge under the fabric.

Steve sighed again but his voice softened when he spoke:

“I’ll leave if you tell me why you were standing outside without even a coat.”

Winter couldn’t bring himself to look up yet.

“I said I don’t know.”

“And you know I won’t accept that answer.”

The brunette fiddled with the trim of his boxer. Steve stared at him, waiting for a real answer but when it became clear it would never come, he raised his hand and gently brushed away the black damp strands of hair from his friend’s face.

 “Listen. It’s clear that you can’t use your left arm anymore. I want to know why. Or at least, I want to know what I can do for you. Are you hurt? Did you broke you bone? Something else?”

Suddenly, Winter pushed his hand away and his face turned red again.

“No! It’s just too fucking cold, that’s all!”

The blonde, surprised, took a step back.

“Cold?” he repeated dumbly.

“Yes, cold! What else? It’s freezing outside if you haven’t noticed! My arm’s frozen and I don’t want to touch it and I don’t even want to move it because it’s too. Fucking. Cold.”

Steve was really dumbstruck.

“Too cold” he repeated - as it was the only think he could say for now.

Winter sulked - “why would you even care” he muttered grimly. Though, it didn’t last long; soon he started taking off his sweater and as he struggled like before, rapidly, Steve had to come to the rescue because he wouldn’t have managed it himself with just one arm. After the hoodie, there was a black tee-shirt and when the man was finally naked, Steve opened his mouth at the sight of the left arm - a metal arm.

Before he could say anything, however, the brunette glared at him as if he was challenging him to even try to speak. So Steve didn’t talk but instead raised his hand and slowly moved it towards the arm. Winter tensed up but didn’t move away. When Steve finally touched the metal, he immediately gasped and took a step back in awe.

“You’re right! It’s completely frozen! But how-?”

He shook his head in disbelief.

“Nevermind, we need to warm you up. Get in there right now!”

He waved at the bathtub. Winter turned his back on him to put off his boxer - the last piece of clothe still covering his nudity - and entered the tub.

Despite their bickering, the water was still fabulously hot and it only took one minute for Winter to immerse himself and bask in it.

Steve knelt beside the tub and wagged his hand in the water, both enjoying the feeling of the hot liquid between his fingers and checking the temperature. Winter wriggled gently and helped himself with his right hand to splash water over the back of his neck. He then proceeded to spray his left arm with tiny waves. After a few seconds, Steve imitated him. After a little while, the brunette began to move his arm again.

“Is it warming up yet?” Steve asked.

Winter nodded. Steve stared at the metal.

“That’s weird. I mean- No offense, I didn’t even know. I mean that’s- I really didn’t know for Christ’s sake! I should have-! Aw, fuck, I can’t even talk.”

The brunette glanced at him with the shadow of a hidden smirk. He was obviously very much enjoying himself and the situation.

“What I meant was: it’s weird that it doesn’t warm up itself.”

The blonde scowled at his own words.

“Well, I don’t know nothing about it actually. Do you think it can?”

Winter tilted his head, thinking about it.

“Maybe” he replied after a few seconds. “But not mine.”

Steve shook his head.

“Man, winter must be such a hard time for you. Why didn’t you tell me anything?”

Another glare. Steve blushed with embarrassment.

“Yeah, that was rude, sorry. I just want to help, though” he added in a smaller voice.

For a little while, they stopped talking and just stirred the water to and fro. Winter’s waves hit Steve and in retaliation, Steve splashed him at his torso. The waves got bigger and not before long, they were totally splattering each other. They stopped when a well-adjusted wave had Steve soaked from the top of his head to his chest so he had to rise up to dry his hair and face.

When he came back to the side of the bathtub, Winter had grabbed a soap. Steve noticed how careful he was not to touch or use his metal arm.

“Is it detachable?” the blonde asked. “Or water-proof? Shit, I should have asked you before.”

“Nah, don’t worry, it’s fine.”

When the man rose to put some soap in the lower half of his body, Steve closed his eyes and turned his face away. He then heard the shower head as his friend washed the soap and dirt away before settling down inside the cooling water.

They played a little more before Steve intertwined his fingers with Winter’s left hand’s. The metal was now at human body temperature. And it responded pretty well - looked like it could be as skilled as a real flesh hand.

“Where was it?” Steve asked softly.

“Afghanistan” Winter answered right away - and Steve nodded, comprehensive.

That was one war he hadn’t fought in - for once. But he could as well picture it. Take away the trenches and the mud and the rain and put instead a desert and heat and sandstorms. The rest was the same.

“Sam told me I should be careful with you but he didn’t tell me why. Guess he knew I’d be overprotective and too curious.”

“Sam’s a really wise guy.”

Steve looked up and found Winter smiling wickedly. The blonde frowned but he strengthened his grip on Winter’s hand and pulled - and the boy got drawn to him.

“Oy mister, I’m trying to take care of you here.”

The smile got bigger. Steve’s hand let go of the metal fingers and instead he stroked Winter’s cheek with his thumb. He moved forwards and brushed through the dark strands of hair, half-wet, dripping cold drops.

“Can I wash your hair?” he asked.

Witner shifted inside the bath, in search of a more comfortable position.

“You really like my hair” he stated casually, eyes looking completely elsewhere.

Steve turned pink from nose to toes.

“I guess I do” he replied sheepishly, feeling his gut wrenching at the thought that his behaviour might not be acceptable - but then Winter reassured him.

“S’okay. I like it when you touch it.”

And he bent forward, crossing his arms on the edge of the tub and resting his chin on them.

Steve turned the tap to a little hotter and grabbed the shower head. He used his right hand to hold it so he wouldn’t accidentally touch Winter’s left arm. He started by properly wetting the hair before putting shampoo on his hands and massaging Winter’s head. It was weird to do so not from behind like any hairdresser would do. But Steve didn’t mind: it allowed him to have a plentiful look at Winter’s face. The brunette had his eyes half closed and a pure smile of satisfaction had blossomed on his red, pulpy lips.

Steve felt his stomach twisting at this simple sight.

 _Oh God_ , he thought.

 

When Winter’s skin was red and hot from the shower and his hair as shiny and smooth as silk, Steve let him go and went to the kitchen to boil some water. The brunette put on fresh clothes and settled on the couch in the living-room with a towel wrapped up around his long hair. Using both of his hands, he was began drying it. Steve noticed that although he had put one of his irrationally too large hoodie, he hadn’t put on his gloves - not even for his left hand. He did sit on the left side of the couch as usual, however.

Steve grabbed the plate with the two cups of smoking black tea he had made and brought it to the coffee table. Winter didn’t speak for he was momentarily blind from the towel and the hair. Steve took that opportunity to fill Winter’s cup with a generous spoon of honey - Winter liked his tea with some sugar or honey. He then took a sip of his own drink while Winter put the towel away. The brunette finally mumbled a thank you and seized his mug. Steve stared at him for a few seconds before pinching him on his elbow, tenderly. His friend turned to him, his eyes blinking from dizziness.

“What?”

Steve felt a huge urge to drag him into a tight hug but he was sure this was not what the brunette wanted at this moment - so he settled back on what he originally wanted to ask.

“Why did you go outside without a coat? Please.”

Winter’s face darkened and his hold on his mug tightened. But he answered.

“I don’t know. I honestly don’t know. I just went outside to take out the trash and then it started to snow and I- I don’t know what happened. Something in my mind. I got so scared but I- it was weird. I got even more scared at the thought of going back inside. Like I would be- I would be-”

The word was struggling to come out. And failed.

A soft gasp escaped his throat and Steve spotted a single tear in the corner of his - so pretty, _damn!_ \- blue eye. He put a soothing hand on his shoulder and scooted near him.

“It’s okay” he whispered softly. “You’re okay.”

Winter nodded.

For a few minutes, they didn’t talk and just drank their tea. Then Steve spoke again, his voice calm albeit a bit hoarse.

“I don’t like the cold either. Once, I got frozen into ice and now, every time it starts to get cold, I feel like I could go back into the ice at any moment. Or that I may never get warm again.”

He stopped. Winter had looked up and was staring at him with an unreadable expression. But his interest felt genuine as he quietly waited for Steve to continue. This was nothing the blonde had ever told the shrink SHIELD sent him when he had woken up from the ice - well, after their little masquerade failed anyway.

“It doesn’t happen all the time, of course. I mean, winter in D.C. is pretty decent comparing to the Alps in Europe or something. And it’s not like I can’t put on a coat for that feeling to disappear. It’s just... You know, sometimes, it just takes me off guard. I’m walking and my mind is distracted but suddenly I touch something really cold and then I realize that the air and everything around me is cold. And I got-”

He swallowed. Glancing down, he saw that his hands were shaking - and he mildly jumped when Winter reached out and took his hands firmly in his’. Steve looked up at him and saw his friend smiling tenderly.

“I don’t know what happens” he said, his eyes locked on Winter. “And it makes me feel weak and I hate that. I hate myself because it’s so ridiculous - seriously who’s afraid of the cold? - but I just can’t stop it. I can’t help it and I don’t even know when it’ll happen.”

The grip on his hands tightened soothingly.

“I understand” Winter said.

And so Steve brought himself to smile - poorly but smile nonetheless.

For another couple of minutes, they sat quietly, bathing in each other’s warm presence. Steve put down his empty mug and took out his phone from his pocket. He started typing rapidly on it. Winter tilted his head so it rested on Steve’s shoulder and closed his eyes, focusing on the sweet smell of the tea, Steve’s skin and his own hot and clean skin.

“Hey” Steve finally said. “I got an idea for your arm.”

Winter glanced up.

“I know this friend - he’s a mechanic. If you want - only if you want - we can pay him a visit. I’m confident he’ll be able to invent something for your arm so it could never get cold like it does. How does that sound to you?”

Winter crouched his face for a second, thinking about the prospect of his arm never getting cold again, never giving him frost-bites on his shoulder or never being that dead thing at his side he dared not even touch it.

“Sounds like it would be great.”

He hadn’t even finished his sentence that Steve was already on his feet.

“Great! Come on then! We’ve still got the whole afternoon, I’m sure it would be enough!”

“Wait- what? Now? But we can’t go to your friend like that!”

But Steve was smiling brightly and pulling on his sweater’s sleeve.

“It’s alright! Tony already texted me to say he’s free. In fact, he’s asking me if he should send a car to pick us up.”

Winter was confused as hell - all his face could testify about that. But Steve’s stubbornness was too much powerful and his enthusiasm couldn’t be dent either so there was little to nothing he could do about a Steve enthusiastic stubborn project. He surrendered.

They quickly decided not to accept Tony’s offer - Winter glossed over why he didn’t want it but as for Steve, he had no desire of a Stark car near his undercover home (HYDRA would be sure not to miss it and that would put Winter in danger.) It was still highly freezing outside, however. So Steve literally wrapped Winter’s arm in a blanket - despite Winter’s muscular opposition to that idea ( _being that ridiculous is nowhere near acceptable, Rogers!)_ and the brunette himself in his own biggest coat. As for himself, and regardless of everything he just told his friend, he only put on a scarf and a hat over his leather jacket.

The cold hit them both hard when they went out. Winter started shivering right away but then he grabbed Steve’s hand and that simple contact soothed the two of them. They started walking - fast - pressed against one another.

The snowstorm was still raging and blowing harshly inside the streets, oppressed on their two sides by dark buildings and dim apartment blocks. On their way to the subway, they only encountered two other silent silhouettes. Right before they entered the subway, Winter stopped on the stairs and looked up at the sky.

“Yet it looks like a ballet” he said.

Steve stopped too to look up and saw what his friend meant.

It was cold and the wind was rushing through his jacket and past his scarf and overall felt like whipping his exposed cheeks. But up there, the sky was full of gray immensity, void devoid of clouds, Brooklyn’s buildings remaining at his peripheral vision - and the snow was dancing, dancing and swirling, like little white dots on a somber background, little white stars on a endless sky. And as they were facing it, they were staring right at the heart of the universe - a cold, constant, ever-changing universe but a so peacefully graceful one, too.

It was beautiful.

“It does” Steve replied.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: this chapter was actually inspired by a recurrent experience in my life that is playing the flute in a freezing place that’s even colder than the outside. My flute and I are very close pals (no judgement please) so it turned out that it really hurt me that I couldn’t hold her - let alone play her. That got me to imagine what it would be like to have metal linked like that to your body - you end up thinking that it’s its fault and it doesn’t deserve your care and that the less you move it, the less you’ll feel it.


	7. Chapter 7

They hurried inside the subway - mainly because Winter didn’t like having so much people around him and so tightly surrounding him. Though, Steve did look nervous too. They got out as soon as they could for them no to walk one hour around the busy and noisy streets of New York. The majestic, metal glowing modern building stood at the end of the avenue like a king, taller than the buildings around - but not that tall considering all the other skyscrapers in the US.

The Avengers Tower.

Winter slid a glance to his friend but Steve had already passed his arm around his shoulders and started walking, more or less pushing him forward. Winter shoved his hands inside his hoodie’s ventral pocket - grunting when his left hand wouldn’t fit because of that damn fucking-for-real blanket Steve had forced him to put around it so it wouldn’t freeze again - and fell in steps with Steve, keeping the tower in sight.

The Avengers were some big deal but if he recalled correctly, they were busing fighting alien invasions and shit. Which meant not HYDRA’s business. Consecutively, not his business either. (That was good. He didn’t like having too much targets at the same time.)

When they arrived at the Tower, the glass doors rang and opened as soon in front of them. They stepped into the entry hall and Steve right up headed for the elevator on the other side of that deliriously big, over-crowded, well-lit floor, not minding for a second the security. They weren’t ten foot inside the building, though, when Winter’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He frowned but didn’t look.

One large dude wearing a suit stopped them when they approached the elevator from too close but his friend rose his hand in a peaceful gesture.

“It’s okay, Jack, he’s with me.”

Jack the bodyguard eyed him and Winter decided to stare him down as he would with any other one of his target. (Not great, soldier. Not the appropriate attitude.) Jack looked back to Steve then him then Steve again and when Steve frowned, he sighed and stepped back.

“Yes, of course, Captain. Everything’s fine.”

The elevator’s doors slid open and they stepped inside.

Steve dialed one of the highest number possible and leaned back on the cabin’s walls. The brunette rose a suspicious eyebrow.

“Captain?”

“Hum?”

“Why did he call you captain?”

Steve’s face only showed blankness but suddenly, as if he had remembered something, he blushed all the way down and waved his hand as if to dismiss the concern.

“Oh, yeah, well, ‘cause that’s my rank, you know?”

Winter’s frown deepened.

“You’re a captain? I thought you were” - even though they were apparently alone (which they certainly weren’t, the building being most likely to be stuffed with cameras in every angle ever) he lowered his voice to a whisper - “an agent of SHIELD.”

Steve winced and got even redder. It would be cute if it wasn’t the sign he was hiding something.

“Yeah, well, I’m not exactly... Let’s just say I’m part of the US army but SHIELD recruited me as a, well, you could say a special agent.”

The blonde tried to smile reassuringly. And he did, for sure. But Winter could tell it was a fake smile. The assassin scowled and fell quiet. He felt bitter knowing Steve didn’t want to tell him the truth - and that was weird, that was even wrong, because, (he had to remind himself) the less he knew about Steve, the less he’d have to pretend not knowing anything in front of his handlers. He was feeling bad enough for not having told them that Steve was working with SHIELD, the very organization his handler would gladly see dead and buried a long time ago.

To pass the time - and pretend he was ignoring his friend - he took out his phone to look at the text he had received earlier in the entry hall.

If his face remained still, his right hand tightened on the device.

 

_“Why are you in Avengers Tower? Answer requested asap.”_

__

“Everything alright?” Steve asked, trying to peek at the screen.

Did this man have no sense of privacy at all?

“I don’t know Rogers. Last time I checked, there was some blonde guy spying on me and my private life. So you tell me.”

His hissing tone along with his death glare made the man with only one scarf and a hat (when the temperature was obviously under zero) to back down sheepishly.

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to be rude.”

Steve leaned back again on the wall, giving him his space but Winter could still feel his adorable puppy eyes and his stupid smile lingering on him. It was quite the unnerving thing - but strangely enough, the brunette also felt the need to keep Steve looking at him like that. Forever.

He typed his answer.

_“Steve wants me to meet Tony Stark. It’s his friend.”_

His thumb hovered over the send button as he read and re-read his text. Was it giving too much away? Too little? He bit his tongue. Being punished because he hadn’t been explicit enough would be quite the pain in the ass for a shitty day as it already was. Should he mention that his visit to Tony was because he wanted to make improvements to his arm?

Nah. HYDRA didn’t have to know about everything that happened to the arm. (They barely knew how it worked and frankly, it was better that way. Stalin knows what they could do to him if they knew all there was to know about it.)

His roommate wanted him to meet one of his friend. Thinking about it, that was a pretty normal thing people do, right? Even if that friend happened to be Tony Stark - aka Iron Man. Maybe HYDRA would think it was another Tony Stark, though...

Don’t be silly soldier.

He sent it.

At the same time he pressed the button, the elevator stopped and the doors opened.

“Come on!” Steve said gleefully.

Winter stored his phone away in his pocket and stepped inside what looked like a hyper-tech lab. Even HYDRA hadn’t one of those in their main HQ in DC. And he wasn’t sure S.H.I.E.L.D. had one either. Tony Stark was really on another level.

“There he is!” Steve said suddenly, pointing, and Winter looked up from a workbench threatening to collapse beneath a helluva lot of test tubes and other bigger sciency bottles to follow his finger to a quite small dark haired figure, bent over another table with a Bunsen burner in one hand and an... was it an _axe_ in his other hand?

“Tony, we’re here!”

And was his stupid friend not capable of being quiet either?

Winter followed Steve, looking around him. He was pretty amazed, to be honest. So much cool tech. Not even potential weapons; he spotted a few useful inventions he would shamelessly steal for their apartment. Even the robots seemed somewhat conscious and friendly. One, who looked like a single perch with a mechanical hand and fingers attached to it, waved at him - and he waved back without thinking.

“Stark, for God’s sake!” Steve hollered when he was exactly five inches away from the genius’ ears.

The short man jumped and took off his earpieces - that would explain why he had ignored them all along.

“Capsicle! I told you never to- And who’s Emo Boy right here? I assume you’re Winter, right? Nice to meet you, call me Tony.”

Winter shook a cooled down Bunsen burner before Tony realized he still had it in his hand and tossed it away on the table. He also put down the axe. Clapping his hands together, he looked at both of them with obvious curiosity - then fired.

“So? I was promised prosthetics. Show it, Grim Weather. Come on! Don’t be shy! Is it that arm? Yes, I can feel it. Oh wait, what’s that? Why did you do-? Is it that fragile? J.A.R.V.I.S.! I need a diagnostic, now!”

“Of course, sir.”

In less than five seconds, Tony had grabbed his left arm, pulled up his sleeve to reveal the blanket wrapped around it and in another five seconds, he was almost done taking it off while holding in his teeth something that looked like a radar.

Winter glanced unsure to Steve but the blonde mildly winced and shrugged apologetically. Meanwhile, Tony tried to speak with the radar still in his mouth.

“Le’chee vhat ve got here!”

He cleared his throat, seized the radar and moved it up and down Winter’s arm. Then - and still without letting him go - he turned to face his worktable above which a hologram just materialized - as much as a hologram could. Winter’s eyes widened when he realized it was the exact copy of his metal arm. Finally leaving his arm be, Tony fidgeted with the ethereal blueprint, taking off the surface plates and digging into the mechanics who was formidably precise. Not even HYDRA had such a design of what was inside his arm!

And Stark obtained it in ten seconds?

“Stalin’s boots...” he whispered, appalled.

The brunette felt a hand on his shoulder. He looked up to see Steve smiling tenderly at him - but with a touch of pride.

“I told you he was good.”

“Good? I’m offended, Steve! Obviously I’m the best. Which doesn’t mean I’m a seeker, however. What do you want me to do exactly? Your text didn’t precise that.”

Steve blushed again. (And this time, it was definitely cute.)

“Oh, yeah, sorry I- Anyway, what Winter needs is-”

“Wait! Look at that. That’s beautiful. It’s junk, really, so outdated and rough and- yeah I think I could reduce the weight by zero point seven. Eight if you give me time. You’d like it, right ? Eight it is. J.A.R.V.I.S., check up what I’ve got left as- oh, my. Is that what I think it is?”

“Tony?”

“I’m amazed this thing’s still working. Truly amazed. So much old pieces and - and I’m positive about that part being nothing but a pain in the ass for the mechanical motion. Where did you get it again?”

“Tony...”

“I don’t have this conductor right now. I’ll have to build it. Give me five minutes. Three. I need coffee. These wires are solid, I give you that, but they’re as useless as there are of th-”

“Tony!”

The genius blinked and finally detached his eyes and mind from the hologram to focalize them on the blonde man. Winter felt lost. His phone buzzed and his attention got distracted - therefore helping him to regain some sense of reality. Meanwhile, Steve was scowling at his Iron Man of a friend.

“Winter’s arm freeze when it’s too cold.”

“What?”

“It even gives him frostbites! We need you to invent some short of heating so it won’t happen again.”

But Tony was already looking elsewhere. He had spotted, right next to his new fire-proof gauntlet - well, it was yet to be effective, there were still some... spontaneous combustion problems to deal with first - a white smudged mug. He giggled gleefully as he ran to it and swallowed all the coffee it contained in one gulp. Right before cringing because it was awfully cold. Also, he started to doubt it was even from today. Not wanting to muse over it any further, he turned to Steve again.

“I know that it freezes, Steve. What I meant is- that’s all? A _heating_? You come to see me - and frankly you don’t come often, do you hate me that much or is something wrong with your floor? I’ll let you Coldy Pal stay with you if that what you want! - and that very one time you do come, you’re just asking for a vulgar heating?”

Steve sighed.

“Frostbites, Tony. It. Gives. Him. Frostbites.”

“I heard you!”

The man looked down at the barbecue skewer he had found - why was it doing here? - and came back to the two other men. Playfully, he pocked Winter in the ribs with the skewer while he wasn’t paying attention to him, staring at his phone’s screen. It immediately delivered an electric shock and the brunette gasped - hopefully because he was more surprised than hurt. (Right. He had forgotten about that invention, too.)

“So, what do you think, William Coldy?”

“What?”

The brunette glanced at him but his eyes quickly fell back on his phone. There was something mesmerizing about the new text he had received.

 

_“Kill Tony Stark. Finish Mission Blue Guns.”_

__

(As soon as his eyes fell on the codewords “blue guns” he got flashbacks of a road under the moon, a car and two people inside it.)

Another instructions followed while he was reading the first ones.

 

_“Blow cover if necessary. No witnesses.”_

 

“Blow cover” meant there was no need to fool or subdue Stark. He just had to kill him swiftly and nicely. Also meant he’d have to kill everyone who ever saw him as Winter the art student. Meaning Steve. So, basically: if he killed Tony right now, he’d have to kill Steve straight after it, too.

But to kill Steve meant...

“Winter? Are you alright? Hey, Winter, look at me!”

The assassin felt Steve’s hand squeezing his right shoulder. It should be painful giving his strength - but it wasn’t. It felt exactly like Winter wanted it to feel. Warm. Comforting. He looked up to his friend.

“Yes?”

Tony, who had, by some short of miracle, got the thoughtful idea of shutting up for a moment, moved slightly towards them so he could come into the brunette’s sight.

“Listen, Winter” he said with a serious tone he was first using since the beginning of the conversation. “That heating, it’s not a problem. I could even do it now if you wanted to-”

“Do it.”

“-But I could also do more.”

Winter blinked.

“More?”

He could always kill Stark after he had improved his arm.

“Yes. Your arm- I mean, the whole thing. I could re-design it entirely. Make it stronger, lighter. More efficient and easier to move. How’s your sense of touch?”

“My what?”

“Do you feel textures?”

The brunette frowned. He looked down at his metal fingers, rubbing them against each other. He could apply whatever pressure he wanted on things but to feel their texture? Irrelevant to his task. Useless, even. (Not to mention technically impossible at the time the arm was made.)

“No.”

Steve glanced at Tony. He could swear his old friend took a few seconds to calm himself down. A lot could be say about Iron Man - but not that he didn’t have a heart as big as his ego.

“I could do that too” he eventually stated, giving his cocky smile again. “Everything I just said. I can do it.”

“How much time will you need?” Steve asked him and Tony mulled over it for a whole second.

“One week. There’s stuff and pieces I need that’ll take time to obtain.”

Steve then turned to his roommate.

“What do you say, Winter? You’d like it?”

Winter blinked again. More efficient Stark had said. Lighter, too. Stronger. Everything HYDRA couldn’t do. Everything he needed to fucking end Captain America (and finally live in peace with Steve and a satisfied HYDRA).

One week. Could he manage one week from his handlers? Surely, not if he didn’t tell them the whole truth. But if he did, would they let him have Stark modify his arm? They could fear he would put inside a off-switch - or worst. (Coming to think of that, except from having Steve’s trust, what proof Winter had that Tony was being honest with him and wouldn’t mess his arm up just to watch him suffer?)

“I- Well, I guess it would be nice...”

Tony clapped his hands again and his face lighted up like a child in front of his Christmas tree buried under the presents.

“Excellent! Come back next Friday, I’ll have everything ready. Scout’s honor.”

“You never went to the scouts, Tony.”

The man shrugged.

“Irrelevant.”

He then pushed them both to the elevator.

“Now, time to go see that floor, Cap. No, Steve, don’t even! I have made improvements since last time! Seriously, you’ll love it!”

Steve frowned but let Tony lead them into the elevator and push the buttons to a floor two levels up.

“For the last time, Tony, I told you I don’t want to move out. Our apartment in Brooklyn is just fine!”

“Shush. Wait till you see what I have come up with.”

 

*

 

Winter fell quiet. They had entered the floor Tony had specifically designed for Steve. To be honest, the brunette liked it. It was simple but cosy. A tall plant in the entry, pale, warm-colored wall, a damn huge couch in the living room - Winter would stay on that couch for days! - some nice paintings on the walls too. A library already full of books for one third, movies for another third and CDs and vinyls for the last third. The bathroom was huge, the bedroom was huge. Everything was huge, really. Steve was frowning and scowling but Winter could tell he was looking at the whole thing with mild desire.

Winter’s phone buzzed. He crouched near the bedroom’s door, half hidden beneath the couch. Leaving the two friends to argue about some DVDs and CDs choices Tony had made that Steve apparently didn’t agree with, Winter checked his messages.

 

_“Status update.”_

 

He checked the time. It was already thirty minutes since he had received his mission’s instructions. He typed his answer swiftly.

_“Working on it.”_

Usually, he didn’t need more than one hour. Maybe his handlers had felt that this mission was trickier than usual. And how trickier! Not to mention he had to avoid at all cost to ever blow up his cover - that otherwise would mean Steve’s death and he couldn’t because just the thought of Steve being gone and he was going to... - there was also that opportunity of an upgrade on his arm.

What should he do? After a long thinking, he came up with a plan. He rose up, ready to talk to Tony and immediately saw Steve closing his mouth. The blonde turned to Stark right afterwards to whisper something in his ears. Too bad, the Soldier had superhearing.

“We’ll talk about it later. Please, don’t say a thing. You might freak him out.”

For how long had they stopped talking about the DVDs and stuff and moved on something more... sensible? The Soldier was beating himself up on this one. So focused on saving Steve, he hadn’t even noticed when the two of them had gone quieter, whispering to one another.

Too late. Proceeding with the plan, now.

“Stark, I’ve changed my mind.”

Tony frowned but Steve glanced at him and shut him up before he even got the time to open his mouth. The genius nodded. Winter continued.

“I want you to operate me now. You said you could do it, right?”

Tony crossed his arms.

“Well, yeah, I could. But I would only be able to install that heating. Maybe I could make a few more improvements too but the biggest part- Sorry, impossible today.”

“Then forget about the rest. Another time. I need the heating now.”

Winter quickly studied Steve. If the blonde was surprised by this sudden change of mind, he wasn’t showing it. Instead, he was giving him that same smile he gave him when he wanted to encourage him - to talk more about himself, to be more open, more trusting. Nevermind what Steve thought it would be best for the brunette, he would do everything he could so Winter would do what he wanted to.

And killing Steve, that would also-

“J.A.R.V.I.S.” Tony said “prep the lab.”

“Yes, sir.”

Winter still wasn’t sure who Jarvis was and from where he was transmitting. Probably through the surveillance system. So, where would it be installed? He needed the tower to be completely dark if he was to keep his cover. But first:

“Steve, I need something please.”

The blonde moved towards him until he could gently brush his elbow with his hand.

“Of course. What is it?”

Winter pouted. He knew that the more he looked like he was reluctant to ask Steve something, the more Steve would be eager to do it.

And like any other times, it worked.

“Winter, come on! You’re about to have an operation, it’s okay to ask me for something you think is stupid. I tell you, it’s not. Anything you want, I’ll do it, I swear. So tell me.”

“That Akhmatova’s poetry...”

Steve nodded immediately.

“Yes, of course. You want me to read or you want-? No, nevermind. I’ll go get it for you right now.”

“Hey Capsicle” Tony chimed in, “if you’re talking about a book, you know I could get it to you on an StarkPad in like five seconds? It’s called Internet and-”

That idiot was going to screw it all! Maybe killing him _was_  for the greater good.

“No! I need my book!”

That was probably too loud.

“Sorry” he said, turning to Steve - but Steve brushed through the strands covering his eyes, bringing them back behind his ears.

“No, no, don’t apologize. It’s fine.”

The blonde grabbed his jacket he had thrown on the couch when he arrived and dressed himself, putting his scarf and his hat on. Tony looked at him as if he was seeing a ghost - or some loony.

“Don’t tell me you’re going all the way back to Brooklyn just for a book.”

Steve gave him a glare.

“So that Winter won’t freak out while you cut his arm open? Yes, _I am_ , Tony.” He turned one last time to Winter. “Don’t worry, I’ll be back soon.”

Then he vanished inside the elevator. As soon as he was out of sight, Winter let go of his breath he didn’t even realize he had been holding. Steve was safe. Now, what he only needed to do was to find that Jarvis, take him out and then come back to kill Stark. Well, after another thing.

“I lied” he stated.

“About?”

“I don’t need that book. I just didn’t want Steve near us. He can be such a pussy when he thinks I’m in danger or something.”

The billionaire smirked.

“Yeah, should have seen it coming. Let’s do this before he’s back, then.”

Winter smirked too.

“That would be for the best, yes.”

 

*

 

The assassination was a failure.

For one thing, the operation on Winter’s arm went as planned - excellently. Winter got all pleased when the arm began diffusing warm through his whole body, starting from the prosthetic. Thanks to Tony “light improvements,” he also found it way easier moving it around. It had the same weight but it was as if the information was coming faster from his brain to the mechanics - and it was certainly the case. The assassin asked for a bathroom to wash all the fat oil his torso and arm had ended covered up with. So Tony stayed in the lab, alone.

First, the Tower went dark. No more light, no more cameras. J.A.R.V.I.S. wasn’t responding either. Tony felt his anxiety crawling under his skin but he managed to get inside his armor - just in time for the Winter Soldier to fall on him. The fight that followed was not an easy one for the genius, probably because the Soldier was like a ninja - and abnormally strong - and because he was in the middle of his lab and intended to make the lest damage possible. God knows how that would have turned out for him if Captain America hadn’t intervened just when the Soldier was about to drive one of his knife into Tony’s arc reactor. Cap fought with a new rage coming from nowhere and when Tony got on his feet again, the Soldier had nothing else to do but flee.

Captain America proceeded to go after Winter while Tony was putting the Tower back on line. He did find him on the entry hall but as soon as he approached, Winter got scared and ran away. (Later he would received a text from him saying that something went wrong at the Tower, that he had come back home and that they had surely met in the way and _please Steve come back too, I don’t think it’s safe there anymore _.__ ) Steve get rid of his uniform and gave it to Natasha who was the one to pick him up urgently as soon as they had received Tony’s automatic distress signal - then he headed back for Brooklyn.

Tony got the Tower back before Cap left but could only wish him good night and hoping he hadn’t scare Winter for good - also promising the blonde he was starting to work on that new arm immediately. But first, he decided to determine how the Winter Soldier had broken into the Avengers’ home. The guy was a real pro, no doubt, but he had made one mistake: breaking into a intelligent building - also known as J.A.R.V.I.S. What he found, watching the security footage - or rather the backup ones - left him speechless. Before he was able to send the data to anyone, however, they all disappeared at once. Looking up, he saw the redhead getting her USB key back and thanking J.A.R.V.I.S. for his help.

“Don’t worry, Tony. I’m on it” said Natasha Romanoff, winking.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I've just learned that today is Bucky's birthday. And I ain't gonna do something for him? Bullshit! (Plus, it's my first Bucky birthday in this fandom.)  
> \---  
> Actually, the real Winter's birthday chapter won't happen in a few more chapters but I didn't want to be spoilery. As for this one, it may not happen directly after the last one but I still haven't figured exactly where it belongs in my timeline so let's say that nobody cares. Happy birthday Bucky \o/ (and I hope you guys enjoy that ficlet too)

 

**March 10th**

When Winter woke up that day, he immediately noticed that something wasn’t right in his mind. After a few seconds, he understood that he was having mixed feeling of happiness and sadness. No - let’s rephrase this. After a few seconds, he realized he was having mixed feeling of “mission went perfectly” and “Steve doesn’t want to talk to me.” (To be fair, Steve __never__  got so mad he would refuse to talk to him but that was exactly what came to his mind when he thought about “sadness.”)

Shortly put, that was fucked up.

“Winter? You okay?”

The brunette blinked and realized he had been standing in front of the open fridge for more than six point eight minutes. Too much for a normal, totally not-assassin, art student. _Way_  too much for the best and deadliest asset within HYDRA - get it together Soldier! It was nothing more than getting some energy to fuel the body!

Still, the mixed feeling of happiness and sadness were no strangers to why he could only frown at the food without picking anything.

“I think...” he said, not minding the fact he was literally spitting his thoughts out loud, “I want something sweet.”

At these words, Steve immediately jumped on his feet from the couch.

“I heard there’s a new bakery not far from here! Well, actually, I think it’s more like a tea bar or something? Anyway, do you want to try it?”

Winter mulled over the idea for a bit. It was early, probably cold outside, he hadn’t had his coffee yet and he was still in his pajamas pants (Steve, on the other hand, was already fully dressed - but that was because he had just returned from his morning jog). But, if that could ease the sadness feeling for the benefit of the happiness one, Winter was more than eager to try it.

 *

Fifteen minutes later, they were sitting inside the “Tea Party Pony” (don’t even ask), near its large shop window. The tea was good, the pastries were delicious and Steve was cute, looking all around him (should he mention that the place was most comfy too? There were large padded armchairs, delicate wooden one-legged table, peaceful paintings on the walls and somewhere in the background, relaxing Asian music) and saying whatever came to his mind. It was things like:

“Don’t you think that pink teapot is pretty?”

Or:

“Damn, you should really try that raspberry-cheesecake, it’s so good!”

By the time Winter had eaten enough to consider their little trip to a teashop could count as a proper breakfast, he was glad to inspect himself and find that the sadness feeling had withered.

However, as soon as they got back into the apartment, it came back, strong as before.

 *

It was as if there was nothing he could do about it. That was frustrating because the Soldier should know better and control his emotions better. At the same time, there was that happiness feeling he certainly didn’t want to give up. If only he could know where the two of them were coming from then he’d certainly be able to erase the sadness one for good!

But he didn’t and he was pacing the room like a lion in his cage or a frustrated cat, looking for a non-existent cat tree and starting to gaze longingly at the curtains. Steve was sprawled on the couch, reading a biography of Amelia Earhart but he hadn’t read ten pages yet due to how many times he looked up from his book to frown at his friend.

Finally, Winter slumped on the couch too. He curled up on himself and grabbed a pillow, burying half his face in it. The pillow was a bit like fur, all soft and fluffy. It was nice holding it in his arms.

Maybe that was the solution?

“I want a plush” he blurted out but most clearly.

“Oh, okay” Steve replied mildly surprised - but he retrieved his phone from his pocket without further delay. “I think we can order one on Amazon-”

Winter shook his head. He put down the pillow and stood up.

“No, no. I want to touch it first. Like, test it.”

He glanced at Steve. The blonde was still holding his phone, already on the website. He bit his lips then shut his phone and put it back inside his too-tight jean.

“Okay” he repeated.

He thought about it for a moment.

“We can go to the Mall” he suggested eventually. “But I don’t know if there will be much choice?”

Winter was already at their doorstep.

“Perfect. Let’s go.”

 *

Shopping at the Mall turned up to be a fun moment. They never went there because there was a smaller supermarket near their apartment that was much more convenient for grocery shopping. So, as they happened to be there - and after Steve promised Winter that he’d have his plush - the blonde took the opportunity to buy some cleaning products and food they couldn’t find in their usual supermarket. When this was done, they went to find the stuffed animals for Winter to pick one. He chose a giraffe and Steve insisted for paying it.

As they left the Mall, Winter looked down at his plush and imagined that he was definitely getting better. The sadness feeling was still making a knot around his heart but now there was also the fun feeling to counteract it, the “I’m doing a completely useless activity right now but it’s fun and HYDRA never allows me to have fun so screw them, that makes it even funnier” kind of feeling. So, Mrs Giraffe hadn’t swipe all the sadness away yet. There was still something missing and he had still no idea what.

Steve must have felt how his thoughts were going because he asked him softly:

“What now? Do you want to go home or do you want to do something else?”

The brunette looked around. They were in a grim, busy parking lot. Sure, there shouldn’t be much to do around here. But he certainly wanted to __do__  something else.

“I want...”

“Yes?”

Maybe he should keep it simple. And trust his friend.

“I’d like to do something fun.”

Steve’s face lightened up immediately. Seeing him that excited definitely made his stomach twitching - but not in a bad way.

“I have an idea! There’s a amusement park that’s, like, ten minutes on foot from here. Whaddya think?”

Winter thought that in an “amusement park” there was a high chance he could find something fun.

They started walking and on the way to the park, Steve offered to him to put his plush inside his bag with the rest of their purchases so he wouldn’t be hindered by it - or worst, lose it.

 *

The amusement park got a lot of attractions that actually sent stars in Winter’s eyes. One especially had him all excited and urging Steve to hurry up his sorry ass. Meanwhile, the blonde was pouting a little at the whole place.

“This isn’t how I remembered it.”

“Who cares Rogers? Can’t you see how high this thing goes? I’m sure we’d be able to see all New York up there!”

The Ferris wheel was definitely a mistake for Rogers. Winter almost believed he was going to throw up at some point - weird and almost sad for a super-trained agent of S.H.I.E.L.D. When it was - finally - over, they chilled up on a bench with an ice cream. They stayed quiet and comfy until Steve pointed at a shooting range.

“I bet I could win you another plush!”

Winter looked up and growled.

“And I bet I could do better than you.”

“Oh it’s on then!”

They rose up and swallowed the rest of their ice cream with the cone like it was no big deal and Steve went to play first. He made his knuckles crack and smiled smugly at his friend - who smirked back at him, his own confidence leaking through his face.

The game was obviously rigged and they were truly amazed to find that it took the two of them and all their skills to win the medium elephant plush they were aiming for. On their way home, though, the debate was less on the treachery of the showman and more about who helped get the plush more.

“I hit the target three times in a row!” Winter exclaimed.

“But I demolished mine!” Steve replied as energetically.

“So what? You’re stronger than me but I am more precise and that’s what matters in battle Rogers!”

“No, I’m pretty sure strength matters.”

Winter sighed dramatically and Steve burst out laughing.

 *

When they were home, they organized the grocery and Winter went to his room to set his two stuffed animals on both side of his pillow. When he returned to the living room, Steve had dropped back on the couch with his book. Winter sat next to him and a comfortable silence settled between them.

Winter analyzed his mind to discover the sadness feeling had _still_  not gone away yet. What more? What was he missing? He got sweet things to eat, he had fun, no threat of punishment from HYDRA for that, by the way - so what more did his body need? The brunette glanced at Steve. His friend was reading with a light smile on his lips and his blue eyes got that sparkle of interest that made him so beautiful to look at. Winter decided that there was an opposite of “punishment.” He leaned forward to Steve.

“Do you... Can you comb my hair?”

Steve sat up right away - as if he had been waiting for something like this the whole day.

“Yes of course!”

Winter felt his mouth curving into a smile. He was ready to go fetch his comb when Steve grabbed him by the elbow.

“But, er- actually, I was thinking that you could take a shower first? Y’know, to relax and stuff. If you want of course.”

Winter slowly nodded. Steve had really good ideas sometimes - most of the time, truthfully, only not when his own safety was on the table. He rose and went to his bedroom to grab his pajamas before heading for the bathroom. There, he took one long, hot shower. He especially put a lot of effort in washing his hair. He came back in the living-room with a towel simply put on his head, his comb and a hairdryer. Steve was already waiting for him.

It took far more time to comb his hair and get rid of the few knots in it that it should have been but the utility of the action wasn’t their first motive. It was still the middle of the afternoon but Winter was dozing off and nearly fell asleep on Steve’s laps. Well, he _did_  and when he woke up two hours later, Steve was cooking dinner and had made a cake. They ate and played Uno for a bit before they both went to sleep.

Sitting on the edge of his bed, Winter was thinking about his day. Let’s be honest: he had failed it. The sadness feeling hadn’t left him for one second - not even as the happiness feeling hadn’t stopped growing bigger and bigger along the day. Sighing, he grabbed his diary and like he used to, started listing the things he had done during the day. When he was done, he checked the date on his phone to add it at the beginning - and that was when it finally clicked in his mind.

_Stalin’s polished boots._

Winter looked down at what he had written. The cakes, the plush, the amusement park... Of course. It was so obvious now. It was as if his subconscious had tried all day long to got it right even if he hadn’t been able to remember what “it” was.

But now he did. Tears filled his eyes and he had to close his diary.

“ _Happy birthday Winter_ ” he murmured to his old, broken, patching-wounds self.

And he had no idea that in the other bedroom, Steve was laying on his bed, staring at an old black and white photography picturing two men in uniforms, wishing the same thing to his dearest friend in the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Story note: obviously, Steve's willingness to help Winter do all this "weird" stuff was because Winter reminds him of his old WWII pal (geez, I wonder why) so that was his way of celebrating his birthday.


	9. Chapter 9

As it had been decided, Winter and Steve went back to Avengers Tower for Tony to make the changes on Winter’s arm.

Strangely, Winter appeared reluctant to the idea and Steve almost had to drag him there. The brunette kept saying that the Tower wasn’t safe anymore - that because of the Winter Soldier’s attempt of killing Stark which had happened while he was still in the building and although Steve had assured him a thousand times already that the assassin wouldn’t come back - and that he didn’t need the new arm anyway.

Even more strange was Tony’s attitude; the genius suddenly acted as if he hated Winter. Steve was surprised and maybe hurt. Tony was one of his closest friend and he knew the man. Eccentric was an understatement but him gratuitously hating on somebody? That wasn’t Tony. Tony loved people until they despised him and try to belittle him - and Winter definitely did neither of these things. But he stayed polite and did exactly what he had promised to do - so Steve put that on his too-much coffee/lack of coffee (Tony had a fragile equilibrium with coffee).

Unbeknown to Winter, Iron Man didn’t just make the improvements. He took the old pieces out - the ones he wanted to replace - and keep them to later run a complete analysis on them. This was actually Steve’s idea. When Winter had shown his prosthetic to him, Captain America couldn’t help but notice how similar it was with the Winter Soldier’s. And there was more: both the men had spent some time in Russia and had been soldiers (one still was obviously). So Steve didn’t need too long to come to the conclusion that there was something going up with HYDRA on Russian soil. His main idea was having Tony to analyse the arm - as much as possible - to determine a) where it was made and if not at least b) by whom. He hoped to track HYDRA with that lead.

Finally, unbeknown to both Winter and Steve, Tony also acted at someone else’s behest. One redhead, to be more specific. The genius did make all the improvements he said he would do but he did not make a new arm. He changed all the inside but didn’t touch the outside except for some plates located at the joints that were too badly damaged. Thus the end result was that the red star, the metallic gray color and the overall shape of the arm was exactly the same as before. Someone looking at the arm would never notice that it had been changed.

 

A week after their visit to Tony, Captain America got a new mission. It had been several days since he had one - and since he had fought the Winter Soldier. The blonde had quite enjoyed these holidays for Winter at the same time benefited for a lighter schedule at school so they got to spend a fair amount of time together. They even took a trip to go see the Great Canyon neither of them had seen yet. (Steve wouldn’t admit it to anyone but that was the best day of his life so far.) Still, Captain America being Captain America, he was happy duty called again. Except for one thing.

“I’m coming with you!”

Steve stared with astonishment at the brunette sitting across of the kitchen island where they were having dinner. He had just told his friend that he was going out on a mission the next morning, probably for the whole day and his reaction was... not what he had expected.

“Winter, what are you talking about?”

But the brunette didn’t seem to be joking around. Steve chuckled uneasily.

“Come on, it’s a _S.H.I.E.L.D._  mission. You can’t come. Besides, it’s not like it isn’t my job or something. I’ve been doing these missions since the beginning of the year, Winter! Why are you making a scene now?”

That last word was wrong. Steve realized it and bit his lips. It felt like they were having a couple argument. (But Winter started it, the blonde reminded himself.)

“I asked Sam and he said I could come” Winter replied as if he hadn’t heard the question.

He fumbled into his pocket until he found his phone and showed the texts to him. Steve sighed. He couldn’t see much to oppose to his roommate so he pretended to give up.

“You know what? I’ll ask Natasha. Given that, you know, she’s the one who plans our missions. If she says yes then you can come. Okay?”

Winter squinted at him but then grabbed his fork and resumed eating his dinner.

“Okay” he said.

Steve smiled to himself. Winter and Nat hadn’t met yet - not officially, that said - but the brunette respected the fierce woman Steve had talked to him so much about. And obviously, he could already hear Natasha saying:

“Yes, you can come of course.”

“What?!”

Steve felt utterly betrayed. The redhead wasn’t even looking at him. Their apartment’s door was open, flooding the living-room with the fresh morning air, Sam standing in the door frame. Winter was wearing his combat boots, a tight shirt and black leggings - as if that little jerk had known what Romanov was going to say.

Steve grabbed his friend by the elbow, forcing her to face him.

“Nat, you can’t- I mean, it’s too dangerous! Why would you allow him to come with us? What will Fury say about that?”

She gave him a glare and her voice got suddenly cold as ice.

“Fury trusts me to run this mission the best way possible. And I have decided that bringing Winter with us is the best way possible. Are you telling me you don’t trust me Steve?”

Steve blushed. Of course he wasn’t. Obviously, he had all the confidence in the world for Nat’s ability (she was trained since her childhood to be a spy whereas he wasn’t). But bringing Winter along with them on an actual, potentially dangerous mission? He glanced at his friend. If one second before, Winter was grinning gleefully, now he was staring back at him, his arms crossed on his chest. Pissed. As final resort, Steve looked at Sam but the man slowly shook his head. _No help coming from me, man_ , his face said. Well, he did agree on Winter’s presence from the beginning.

Steve sighed.

“Fine.”

He turned on his heels, heading for his bedroom when the redhead called him back.

“Where are you going?”

He gave her a surprised gaze.

“Well, picking up my stuff?”

Natasha shook her head, mildly irritated.

“This is a cover mission, Steve. We aren’t going in there with our usual arsenal.”

“But-”

“Come on, we’re already late.”

This was truly the icing on the cake. First, his two friends betrayed him allowing Winter to be put in danger. And now, he was supposed to let them all go inside an A.I.M. base without their weapons?

This was going to be a disaster. A huge, fucking disaster.

*

The team first stopped at S.H.I.E.L.D.’s headquarters in New York to grab some useful gadgets. They went directly to the lab where they were greeted by a tall man in a white coat, acne pimples all over his face and twitches closing his left eye every two or three seconds.

“I am. So. Glad.” he said as an introduction.

He shook Steve’s hand with genuine pleasure.

“May I say, sir, I am so honored to meet you.”

“It’s okay” Steve said, embarrassed - as always when people couldn’t see past the icon and thought of him as only the war hero and stuff.

Luckily, Natasha came to the rescue.

“Samberly, please. We’re in a hurry.”

“Yes, yes, of course.”

The man turned and for one second, looked as if he was lost in his own lab. However, he promptly moved towards the worktable near them and grabbed a gun.

“FitzSimmons did the last improvements on the ICERs. More ammo.”

Natasha took the gun with a grin.

“Sweat.”

She felt Winter’s gaze on her so she explained:

“I’m not usually fond of these things but the night-night gun is really one of my favorite.”

Winter’s face lighted up as if he had just witnessed Santa.

“Can I see it? Please!”

The redhead handed it over him and he looked at it with great interest. So cute, Steve thought - before he armed the gun and aimed at a invisible target in less than a second with a grim face on and that wasn’t cute anymore.

Samberly showed them the rest of their equipment - among which, new coms because that was one of the first things A.I.M. targeted and let’s just say that these bunch of scientists were pretty good at hacking frequencies.

“You know” Samberly told Steve as Sam and Nat were helping Winter to get familiar with the gadgets, “my name is actually Samberly Junior. My father was also an agent of S.H.I.E.L.D.”

He seemed really proud. Maybe in another time, Steve would have gladly listened to him but right now, he was too much stressed by their oncoming mission and Winter’s presence to even fake it properly.

“How interesting.”

“Isn’t it? And I mean, S.H.I.E.L.D., but he served in the S.S.R., the agency that _would_  become S.H.I.E.L.D. Yes, I’m telling you, he even went on mission with the great Chief Sousa and agent Carter.”

To be honest, the man didn’t need an actual auditory. The blonde briefly wondered how was the father. Did Peggy not mind him at all or did he end up with a broken nose before that famous mission got finished?

_Wait. Why do I care?_

“I’m sorry Professor” he cut in “but we have to go now. Thank you for the stuff.”

He rapidly turned around so that the scientist couldn’t have time to reply. The rest of his team followed and Nat’s grin indicated that Winter might not have needed their help after all - or at least, not from both of them.

Jerks.

*

Next, they went to the changing room because Winter had had some requests about his outfit and if Steve wasn’t allowed to have his stripped uniform (which he didn’t like anyway) nor his shield, he wanted to at least put on a stealth suit - which were very comfortable in battle.

“Here you go” said Natasha to Winter handing him what looked like a mask.

The brunette was already in a stealth suit too - and damn, he looked _just fine_  in it - his hair tied back in a ponytail. When he put on the mask, hiding half his face, including his eyes, away from the word, the sight sent shivers all over Steve’s body.

“Does it fit?” the redhead asked.

“Perfect” the brunette answered, taking it off.

Steve finished to strap his boots and slid on the bench towards his roommate.

“Hey, you know, you don’t really need that...” he tried before Sam interrupted him.

“Not everyone wants to be a walking flag, Rogers.”

Winter looked confused.

“What?”

“Nevermind” Nat replied before Steve could.

At this moment, Brock Rumlow and another one of the STRIKE team entered the changing room. They brought with them a flavor so strong, Steve couldn’t but wince in pain. Judging by their sweat - and the odor - and their dusty uniforms - and the odor - the two of them were probably back from training.

“Why, Cap” said Thomson while taking off his shoes, “abandoning us yet again? We’re gonna start thinkin’ you don’t like us” he teased.

Steve smiled lightly at him as he checked his knife in his calf’s sheath.

“Aw, you know it’s not like that. And to be honest, I missed beating up pirates. Fury and Nat are only giving me boring spy mission, you know what I mean?”

Natasha rolled her eyes but the other man laughed. A loud clang resonated within the room when Brock abruptly closed his locker. The upper part of his suit taken off revealing his not-so-white-anymore shirt underneath, he moved towards Cap’s team and stopped three foot away, his eyes riveted on Winter. His lips twisted in a cunning way and Steve finally realized that the brunette had frozen the moment the two men had entered the room. Now, he could feel how tense he was and how his breathing was heavy too. Brock’s grin widened. Instinctively, Steve put his hand on Winter’s shoulder and raised his other in the direction of his STRIKE teammate.

“Brock, please. Don’t.”

They stared at each other for a few seconds before Rumlow shrugged and get back to where Thomson stood.

“I see you get yourself a new mate. How cute” he simply said.

As soon as they were out of the room, Steve turned to Winter.

“Are you okay?”

The brunette nodded slowly. Then he took a deep breath and his gaze sharpened.

“I think we should get moving.”

Natasha nodded too.

“Agree. We’ve already lost too much time.”

They swiftly finished dressing up and Winter put back his mask. Steve still felt queasy at the sight and not being able to see Winter’s eyes - to have a peek at what the brunette might be thinking - wasn’t anywhere near helping him to relax.

*

Their mission was actually quite simple. They had located a possible A.I.M. base and had to get inside. To do so, they split in two - which, consecutively, led to a whole new drama because Steve didn’t trust Natasha to keep Winter safe, Winter wouldn’t leave Steve because he believed to be the only one able to protect him and Natasha wasn’t going to let Steve go with Winter because Winter had no plan of the base and _neither_ did Steve "Reckless" Rogers (Sam didn’t pick a side, already having made peace with whatever would follow). Thus, Sam and Winter went through the vents and Nat and Steve directly walked into the corridors of the facility. The first team was supposed to find the storage area while the second one had to find whoever ruled the place and take him prisoner.

In a way, the mission was successful.

Steve and Natasha moved forth with great cautious. Meanwhile, Sam kept them updated. Everything was going smoothly with no indication whatsoever that A.I.M. had discovered their presence. Each time the two friends had to jump into a dark corner to escape any encounter, however, Steve lowly cussed at the absence of his shield.

“Let it go, Steve” Nat finally sighed.

Her eyes sparkled when she added:

“We have more pressing matters to address.”

“Like what?” the blonde asked.

They were at a junction. He peeked at the other corridor and saw nothing - nor did he hear any soul. Natasha was guiding him but he was going first for he was the stronger out of them both.

“Like when you’re going to ask Winter out.”

Steve stumbled. His face went completely red and his voice struggled to keep it low.

“This is not the right- What are you even talking about?”

He turned his back on her, trying to concentrate on the white, well-lit, deserted corridor instead.

“It’s just a friend.”

A little voice in his head pointed out to that it was only what he wanted to believe - he shut up the little voice.

“Yeah, right.”

The blonde never thought he could hear so much sarcasm in someone else’s voice but here he was.

“Can’t you focus at least a bit?” he asked the redhead, mildly annoyed.

Silence followed his demand so he eventually turned back to her, worrying about what could have happened but she was only staring at him, deadly serious.

“I am focused, Rogers. You’re the one who aren’t. You’ve been anxious and easily distracted since this morning. Even Winter is acting more professionally than you do right now. So I’m asking you: are you going to address your feeling before you get us all killed?”

Steve knew she was right. Winter had wanted to join the mission because he wanted to protect him (as if he was the one needing protection) but he had accepted that they went on two different ways. Whereas the dumbass that he was couldn’t even focus on those damn corridors, too obsessed by what could happen to the brunette.

“It’s complicated” he murmured.

Nat’s face softened.

“I know. And I’m not asking you to do it right now. You can start by holding his hand and see how you two feel for instance.”

Her grin definitely made him feel better.

They kept moving. Eventually, they arrived in a vast hangar, with trucks and wooden crates lying on the ground pretty much all around them. As they approached one, however, A.I.M. started shooting at them.

They immediately took cover behind one of the vehicle but at the same moment, they saw other yellow dressed men with heavy guns coming from the corridor they just left.

“Aw crap” Natasha said.

Steve didn’t even moan about his shield; he ripped off the door of the car and used it to protect them. Or at least, intended to. The moment the scientists opened fire, they heard a loud thunk and a grid fell from the ceiling, along with a brunette armed and angry. Winter took out five men before the Falcon grabbed him by the armpit just in time for them to dodge a - probably, definitely - death ray. Winter landed on a crate before the truck Nat and Steve had taken cover behind and pursued his slaughter. In fact, with the help of Sam, he had the hangar all clean and covered with frozen AI.M. goons in less than five minutes.

“Impressive” Nat commented.

Steve didn’t even allow himself to speak - else he would implode. Instead, he took Sam to go look at the crates. They were all full of weapons. Looking at the bill on their side, they saw only two names. The first one was S.H.I.E.L.D.’s.

“I know A.I.M. liked to borrow stuff from other people but man, that’s a whole arsenal they stole from us!” Sam exclaimed.

Steve bit his lips. The weapons were all obviously brand new meaning there was a high chance they were the first one to open these crates in the first place.

“They must have intercepted one of our supply transport or something.”

“I thought S.H.I.E.L.D. made their weapons in their own facilities? So, you know, that thing wouldn’t happen.”

“Well, so did I, Sam.”

They checked the others and found the only box not tagged S.H.I.E.L.D.

“Who’s A. Lukin?” asked Sam, deciphering the name.

The answer came from Winter, across the room, doing the same thing with Nat.

“Aleksander Lukin. Russian business man. Moved his company in NYC last year or something. Really influential in the financial sector.”

Feeling three gazes upon him, he shrugged casually.

“Or at least, so I’ve heard.”

Sam nodded and went back to examining Lukin’s crate - weapons too, the exact same kind of S.H.I.E.L.D.’s actually - but Steve kept staring at his roommate. Natasha had dragged him on the other side of the room and started talking to him. This wasn’t innocent: she had calculated the exact distance needed for him to be unable to eavesdrop on them, even with his superhearing. As the redhead began talking, Winter suddenly looked distressed but he quickly calmed down and his face only showed mild irritation.

“What do you think they’re talking about?” Steve asked.

Sam hummed from within the crate before looking up. Steve pointed at the two others with his chin. Sam leaned on the edge of the wooden box, sighing.

“I don’t know man. I’m not a psychic if you haven’t noticed yet.”

Sam was grinning at him but Steve felt that something was wrong about that conversation. He kept staring but he couldn’t hear a word and eventually, their talk ended and they joined them. Steve still tried to guess what had happened but Nat’s face was undecipherable as always and Winter only shot him a glare back. The blonde had to accept that he wasn’t going to know, how frustrating that was.

“So, Nat, what do you think?” Sam asked once they were together again.

Natasha patted the crate amid them.

“I think we’ve done a pretty nice job. Now, we only need to call the others and secure the base until they show up to take all these guys to their new home. Then, anyone’s up for a end of mission beer?”

Winter grinned.

“I’m up” he said.

The redhead winked at him and once more, Steve got the itchy feeling that he needed to know what the two of them had been discussing. But Sam put a hand on his shoulder and his gaze spoke for him.

“I’m up too” Cap grunted, giving up for good this time.

Winter shot him a beaming smile and maybe, maybe Steve could get used to the brunette coming with them on their missions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, you thought Steve was that oblivious.
> 
> (Also, thanks for all your comments, it always warm my little heart <3)


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: kind of dissociation. (But again people, we're talking about Bucky Barnes. Of course it ain't gonna be all love and flowers.)

Someone knocked three times at once on his door. The door wasn’t locked - hell it wasn’t even closed properly. But that someone knocking would not even think of coming into his room. Not without his authorization.

“Are you almost ready Winter?” Steve asked.

Winter growled as only answer. He was glaring at all his clothes spread chaotically onto his bed sheets. They were dark and it was dark inside his bedroom too. Irritated, he slung the curtains open - something he never ever did for fear of some neighbour seeing him and recognizing him - but the light remained dim and the room, poorly lit. Nothing strange about it as it was late in the afternoon and the sun was getting down pretty fast.

Still, his problem was nowhere near solved.

“Winter?” Steve asked again because he hadn’t heard a thing.

“Almost!” the brunette yelled. “Geez.”

Now, he was completely ready to murder his clothes with the sheer power of his glare. Steve had said they were going out. Sam, that he had to dress “classy.” And Nat told him she would kick him out of the bar if he looked like a hobo. So Winter had searched on the Internet what a “hobo” looked like and, well, _there was a problem_.

“I’m gonna take the bathroom while you dress” Steve announced from the other side of the door.

Winter didn’t bother to reply. Steve was probably going to brush his teeth - for the second damn time this day - all dressed up already. The blonde was certainly not dressed any more differently than usual, though. But he knew how to put up a style unlike the brunette. His too-tight shirt, his jeans just the right size for his butt to show off and his bad-boy-looking leather jacket made him able to go literally anywhere, from the butcher to the freaking bar they were supposed to spend the night inside in twenty-one minutes from now. Why was Steve such in a hurry, really?

“I hate this!”

He listened for a few seconds. Steve didn’t answer. Back to the problem. The core of it was certainly how Winter got his clothes in the first place. Apart from his tactical gear (and the spare ones), half his stuff had been given to him by HYDRA agents in charge of his cover. Meaning they chose things an art student would wear - lacerated jeans and dubious shirts. The other half was of his own choosing - and it was all hoodies.

Winter mulled over the problem for a little longer. There was a solution, actually, but was he desperate enough to do it? To take all his dignity and throw it out of the window? He remembered what Nat said. Answer was definitely yes.

“One sec’!” exclaimed Steve as he heard knocks on the bathroom’s door.

He finished washing his hands and peeked one last time at the mirror, checking that his hair was all gelled and nice before he opened the door.

“Hey, what do you- Why are you in boxers.”

The brunette looked mildly annoyed - and blushing. That was kind of a first.

“I don’t know what to wear.”

Steve thought about it for a second and sighed.

“Show me what you got.”

They headed for Winter’s bedroom but the brunette stopped him with his hand before opening the door.

“Stay here” he ordered his friend while he went inside his room, gathered all of his clothes in one big ball of fabric he then dropped on the couch.

Steve glanced at it without touching and two seconds later, he grabbed a V-neck purple shirt and handed it to him.

“Here, put that on. And wait for me.”

He disappeared into his own room and Winter had barely time to put on the shirt that he was already back with a pair of perfectly unscathed jeans and a black, thin blazer.

“Not bad” the blonde commented when he was finally dressed up.

Winter went into the bathroom to brush his teeth and tied his hair in a manbun he calculated to be skillfully messy-looking.

When he was done, the two of them could finally leave the house to go that bar.

*

The establishment was a cosy one. Not really big, the interior was over-crowded already but strangely, felt even more welcoming that way. There was huge tapestries on the walls, large couches around the dinner tables and fancy lights on the ceiling, ones that changed slowly its color along the night. The overall feeling was crimson purple and restful conversations.

They had chosen a table in a corner of the room, near the stairs to the upper level - where there was a dancing floor. The others were already here and already with drinks. Sam rose up to his feet as soon as he saw them.

“Aw, man! You two are killing it, tonight! How you’re doing?”

“I’m fine, thank you Sam” Steve answered, feeling the heat of the room and the warmth of their friendship peacefully coloring his cheeks.

Nat didn’t bother to get up. But she did look at Winter and clicked her tongue with an appreciate smile. The brunette blushed and took an errant strand of hair back behind his ear. This place was giving all his senses constant alert signals because of how many people were filling it but then Steve sat him down and Sam gave him a green citrus vodka and soon he was surprised to find himself relaxed and smiling.

They were doing idle chat while sipping their drinks and waiting for a server to come get their order.

“God, our night out stressed Winter so much, you guys wouldn’t believe it” Steve chuckled. “He was like so desperate to find something to put on.”

Winter got even redder. He didn’t like Steve making fun of him. Why would he do that? (Why would he want to humiliate him.)

“That’s because you said it was between friends but then that I had to dress sharply” he replied more harshly than what would have probably been necessary.

Sam leaned towards him and nonchalantly rested his elbow across his shoulder. Winter flinched at the touch but it was so faint - and quick - that only Natasha caught it.

“Dude” the Falcon said with the more serious face on, “that’s because we’re also here for the girls.”

The brunette frowned.

“Which girls? I don’t understand.”

Steve choked on his drink. He had to take a second before being able to speak again.

“I think Sam has a plan to try getting ourselves some real dates. No offense, Nat.”

“None taken” the redhead answered before swallowing her thirty-three centiliters of vodka in one shot. “I’m not interested anyway.”

Winter fidgeted with his empty glass.

“Well, I don’t think I am either. I mean what for...”

He interrupted himself when he felt Steve’s intense stare on him.

“So” began the blonde slowly, almost cautiously “you’re saying that... you’re not interested in women?”

For some unknown reason, Steve was the one’s blushing now. Winter was confused as hell. He could hear Sam on his side going “oooh” but before he could actually say anything, Nick, one the youngest employee here arrived to take their order.

Natasha had it all prepared since the beginning and reeled it off in one breath, very professionally. Sam was more hesitant, going back on what he’d already said to modify it. Steve wasn’t sure of himself either. He would start and then fell into complete silence while frowning at the menu. The brunette looked at his own card and couldn’t even understand it. The dishes’ names sounded very funny to his ears but their utility was yet to be proven. Luckily, there was the list of the ingredients below them. So he picked something with salad and fried potatoes, a beef with an egg and something with sauce and chicken. When they had all chosen, Natasha picked the beers and the wine and none of the three men dared to contradict her.

The conversation rolled up on something else completely - going mainly on the newest films and TV shows Sam had watched and wanted them to watch - giving time and opportunity for Winter to think. Occasionally, he would look up and always find Natasha’s eyes on him. She wore a kind-ish smile on her face but the Soldier knew she couldn’t be trusted. He could well recall their conversation earlier on the week, when they had raided that A.I.M. base. The bluntness of her declaration, when she took him out of hearing and deadpan told him:

“I know who you are. And who you serve.”

For one second, it startled him so much he didn’t even think about killing her to protect his identity. A second she used to start talking again, explaining what she intended to do with him. And he could only listen to her - and in the end, agree.

There was only one question on his head now: was he doing okay...?

The food came and he started eating - or rather, ingesting monstrous amount of food. Steve was acting no differently.

“Wow, there!” Sam exclaimed. “Calm down guys! Are you two starved to death or what? And where do you stow all these anyway?”

He gestured incredulously at their plate. Looking up, Winter saw that Steve’s plate was as filled as his own. To be fair, he hadn’t think it through. As long as he could remember, no one had ever bothered to feed him actual, nice meal. It was either perf or military ration. Then, when he moved in with Steve, he had to learn to cook and eat things that looked as pretty on the plate as they were nice inside the mouth. Although the quantity wasn’t quite here - never, to be honest. But as it was apparently what normal human beings ate, he started cooking that exact same quantity than Steve did. Not enough for his metabolism - leaving him to eat energy bars at least three times a day. But what could he do about it? He wouldn’t risk blowing up his cover and he was too afraid to mention the subject to Steve. Steve could get mad and never cook again for him.

And this, this was simply not acceptable.

“Oh, er, well, er” stammered Steve, his mouth full. He swallowed. “I may have a bigger appetite than you think but Winter has ordered plenty too!” he exclaimed as if he was trying to put the blame on someone else.

Nice try but Winter wasn’t having that shit. He looked deadpan into Steve’s eyes:

“I have a big appetite, too.”

That shut him up. He smirked. Sam made one last comment about their stomach being twice the size of their brain but then he started eating too. At one point, they found all their glasses empty. Winter immediately stood up.

“I’ll got the refill.”

He turned on his heels, ready to go order some more beers when a tall man barged in from the stairs and bumped into him, throwing him back against his chair. Quick to regain his balance, Winter glared up but then, he saw the man.

Someone put a hand on his shoulder.

“Are you okay?”

He identified the voice as being Steve Rogers’. Without answering, he shrugged his shoulder to get rid of the hand and started walking. His eyes stayed fixed on his target - the tall, tanned-skin man named Chester Muller, mission code 0-4-7 - while all his others senses tensed up, making him fully aware of his environment and of every person moving around him. The target leaned onto the bar and the Soldier stopped a few feet away, glancing around. He had a cleared view on the entrance door. Perfect. He moved again and came resting against the counter right next to the target. He tilted his head and mouthed his two words into his ear.

“Hail HYDRA.”

It was almost funny how the man’s hand clenched on his glass and his face lost all colors. He glanced at him then at the door and the Soldier knew what he was going to do.

“Ya shouldn’t” he told him, still keeping his voice low. “It would make a scene and that wouldn’t be pretty, believe me.”

The target raised his glass to his lips despite his shaking hand and drank the alcohol in one shot. Then he turned on his heels, shoved his hands inside his pockets and started walking fast in the direction of the door. The Soldier grinned. He fell into steps behind him, only taking one last look around before crossing the threshold to make sure nobody seemed like following them.

His eyes did fall on a familiar group of three people and something inside him flinched for a second. The second afterwards, however, he was outside and ready to complete his mission.

 

As soon as the target left, obviously, he took flight. But he had to know the Soldier was faster than him. The assassin saw him turning on the corner of a black dead end alley and he followed... quite foolishly actually, he mentally noted when his guts alone jerked him out of the way of the bullet. After a short break, the target resumed emptying his gun on him but this time, he was prepared and protected himself with his left arm. The man recoiled to the wall closing the alley, scared to death - and the Soldier could only laugh slyly.

“Come on, Chester. Show me what you got before I kill you.”

He reached out for his gun on his belt and swore when he realized he hadn’t it. He blinked to his decidedly empty belt, having a hard time understanding what he was thinking, going out with not one gun. Luckily, he still got a Swiss knife on his back pocket and a dagger inside his boot. (Nevertheless, he could end him with his metal arm alone if needed.)

The target dropped the useless gun and raised his fists. Cute. The Soldier slung his left arm to his head at full power and even though the man protected himself, he was taken off balance because of all the strength. Then the Soldier kicked him in the ribs and Chester fell on the ground. So easy. He bent, grabbed him by the collar and hoisted him on his foot just so he could throw another punch at him, feeling his metal fist deliciously crushing the bones of the nose. The man groaned with pain and the Soldier looked down at his fingers, dripping from blood so vivid it was almost luminescent in the ascending moon. He focused again on his target. Chester jumped and started crawling away and that was just disappointing. The assassin made no effort, really, to seized him back, this time to end it.

“No! Stop!”

A bullet flew one inch away from his eyes and he dropped the target, turning to this new potential enemy. His surprise was big to find the redhead holding her gun aimed at him with a determined frown on her face.

“Let him go, James” she ordered him calmly.

He flinched. Then he calculated how he could get her before she could fire again.

Natasha took a step further.

“Don’t do it.”

“He’s my mission” he answered without thinking.

“Then fail it.”

Again, he flinched. There was something off about that woman - and off with his brain too. He felt as if she was someone close to him... nice to him? Could that even make sense? But she was also dangerous. No, hold on: she was close to him because she was as dangerous as him.

Natasha kept walking and without realizing it, he started backing off until eventually, she was before Chester - and Chester was probably a coward and a traitor but he wasn’t an idiot: he jumped right back on his feet and fled. The Soldier swore when he saw his target getting away but he hadn’t put one step forward that there was suddenly a cold blade pressed against his throat - along with the barrel on the gun on his forehead. He looked down at the woman, her shining black high heels, her red sparkling dress and her light white blazer and dammit, where and how the hell could she hide these weapons?

The redhead stared intensely at him.

“James, you have to snap out of it.”

“I don’t-”

She leaned to him and he could feel the two weapons against his bare skin. But his hands were free. He seized her wrists... and before he could know it, a right shoe met his left temple so hard it actually sent him on the floor, moaning in pain. The brunette raised his fingers to his temple and felt the blood smudging them.

“Ow.”

“Are you yourself again?” asked the ex-spy in a casual tone, looking from above at him.

This was when Sam finally showed up.

“Nat? Winter? Oh my God, what the hell happened here!”

He immediately ran to them and his eyes got stuck on the poor shape of Winter’s figure - his torn-apart jacket, his bleeding head.

“Winter, man, are you okay?!”

He tried to kneel down near him but Nat stopped him - and she was still holding a gun. Sam didn’t speak a word but his eyes were ordering her to give him a worthy explanation. She sighed.

“How are you feeling?” she asked Winter instead.

The brunette tried to sit up but buried his head into his hands and knees when dizziness fell over him.

“Not... well. I think” he answered in a muffled voice.

He carefully looked up at her.

“I’m not sure of what had happened actually.”

For a whole second, Nat didn’t move. Then she put away her weapons and knelt down beside him, her whole features softening.

“I think you got triggered back at the bar. You tried to kill a man. Do you remember?”

His gaze flickered but eventually settled on her.

“Well, yeah, I guess. I mean, that’s what I do.”

“And I don’t understand” Sam chimed in.

The two looked up at him as if they were only remembering his presence.

“There’s nothing to explain” Natasha said. “Just go back to Steve, we’ll meet you up in two minutes.”

But the black skinned man didn’t move.

“ _Nat_ , I know men with PTSD when I meet them.”

“ _Sam_ ” the redhead replied with that same over-patient tone, “when I say I got this, that means I got this. You’re right: Winter got plenty in his head. The truth is, he’s been brainwashed by some of the most disgusting people I know of. But I’m gonna get him out of there so I need you to let me do it, not ask questions and __not__  tell Steve. Can you understand?”

Sam’s gaze went from her to the brunette. Finally, he sighed and left but not before he gently squeezed Winter’s shoulder.

When he was out of sight, Winter turned to the redhead:

“I guess I should thank you.”

He was yet again interrupted by a beautiful slap in his face.

“What the-?!”

“We had a deal, James!”

Natasha poked him rudely on his chest.

“I help you and I protect you so HYDRA won’t punish you anymore but in exchange, you tell me everything about your missions and what they tell you.”

Winter huffed, annoyed.

“But I didn’t even know it was one of my missions until I saw this dude.”

Natasha remained silent. A few seconds passed, during which he stayed curled up on himself and his chin resting on his knees, not willing to look at his friend - there, he had disappointed her. Good job making allies Winter.

“Why did you have to kill him for, anyway?” Nat eventually asked.

He shrugged.

“Traitor.”

He felt her skeptical stare on him. He rolled his eyes.

“Look, I don’t know the deats okay? Or I don’t remember them, whatever. I just know he’s been with HYDRA or getting there but then he ran away so I have to eliminate him, that’s all.”

“ _Had_  to, James. You’re not going after him and you’re not gonna kill him ever.”

He huffed.

“Stop calling me like that. I don’t even know where you picked up that name.”

The redhead chuckled but her eyes were sad.

“From your past, James Barnes. One I wish you’d start to remember a bit quicker.”

She sighed and rose to her feet.

“Come on” she said reaching out her hand. “Let’s get back to Steve. I’m sure he’s worrying sick right now and if I read correctly into you, not worrying Steve is in your top priorities.”

Winter didn’t hesitate for a second; he grabbed her hand and let her help him get back on his feet.

“You know, I don’t think I like you.”

Natasha burst out laughing and wrapped her arm around his.

“Oh yes, you do. Nobody can hate me. I’m the most adorable person ever.”

Something inside him was doubtful about that fact - especially because it had _another person_  to oppose to that - but he kept his mouth shut.

*

When they stepped inside the bar again, they spotted their two friends on the other side of the room, standing near their table. As soon as Steve saw him, he rushed to him and dragged him into the tightest hug ever.

“ _Jesus Christ_ , Winter, you scared me to _death_.”

He parted but his eyes stilled on his head injury and his frown deepened. Winter sighed and talked before he could.

“ _ _I am_ fine_, Steve.”

But apparently, words weren’t good enough.

“What happened? Sam told me he found you two in the back alley and that you were bleeding. Are you sure you’re okay?”

Winter rolled his eyes and because the redhead was obviously right about him (that was it, he definitely hated her) and that he couldn’t leave Steve worrying, he gave him his brightest smile and rested his forehead against the blonde’s for a few seconds until Steve’s breath calmed down.

“I promise you I’m fine. Look, I just needed some air because of all the people here but then I tripped and I hit myself pretty hard. That’s all. Well, I mean, it’s not a deep cut either. Listen, I’m gonna clean up and then we can continue our night out okay?”

Steve nodded. Winter smiled one more time before heading for the bathroom. To be fair, he hadn’t lie: any other person would probably be in a coma right now but his super healing had already kicked off and once cleaned, his wound was barely a single red line on the left side of his head.

Even so, the night didn’t continue as planned. They finished their main dish but skipped the dessert and Steve took him back home. Comfortably settled on their couch, he let the blonde clean his wound again and put a - totally useless - band-aid on it (but since it was Steve.) When he was done, Steve sighed loudly.

“Please, don’t ever do that again to me.”

He set him on his laps and wrapped his arms around his thick warm body. Winter could feel and hear Steve’s heart beating against his back.

“I won’t” he promised.

But he was getting to a terrible realization. Tonight, he hadn’t had any control over his actions whatsoever and although that “autopilot mode” was familiar to him, it now terrified him. How could he be sure that while being in that state, he wouldn’t hurt Steve? Or worse, what if Steve became a target for HYDRA? He didn’t want to do it, ever. For the first time, he actually _cared_  about what orders could be given to him. That and the fact he couldn’t answer his own question.

He realized his respiration had become stiff and irregular. He turned within Steve’s embrace so he could bury his head in his neck and breath into his smell.

“Please, please tell me you’ll always be there for me. And you’ll never give up on me.”

He could feel Steve tensing up but then, the blonde started running light circles on his back with his thumb and pressing ghost kisses upon his head.

“I’ll promise.”

He fell quiet but Winter could tell he wasn’t done talking and he wondered why, all his insecurities and worries creeping back inside his mind. But then, Steve finished in a strangled voice:

“I love you.”

The brunette relaxed immediately and he nuzzled deeper into his friend’s neck.

“Thank you.”

 


	11. Chapter 11

Six o’clock: the alarm goes off.

Steve stirred up inside his bed with a lazy smile but before he could begin mouthing the lyrics of the catchy song he used as an alarm every morning, he turned it off and put both of his feet on the cold floor. He rose up and swiftly got dressed with his light sport pants and an old shirt.

He crossed the living-room but when he got to their threshold, his hand on the doorknob, he tilted his head towards Winter’s bedroom and listened for a few seconds to the faint snoring coming out of the room. Then he unlocked their entry door and went outside.

He ran for a bit less than an hour, enjoying the fresh air of the morning, the sun rising and the peaceful streets. On his way back, he stopped to buy a few freshly-baked donuts. He returned to the apartment, put the donuts on the kitchen counter and went straightly into the bathroom. After his usual ten minutes hot shower and putting on some fresh clothes, he went back to the kitchen and started brewing the coffee.

 

Half past seven: the alarm goes off.

Winter groaned and curled up even more on himself, grabbing his pillow with utter dismay. Alas, the alarm wouldn’t shut up - even worse: it was getting louder and louder. Like every morning ever, he wondered why he had set up that function.

He hissed at the clock and glared at his giraffe that enjoyed all the time in the world in his bed. But he eventually got out of his precious and comfy sheets. The Winter Soldier was no man to be easily cold but he couldn’t help a shiver down his spine when his feet touched the non heated floor. He immediately put them into his sleepers and also put on one of his large hoodie. Ready to confront the crude and unforgiving reality, he left his bedroom.

Steve was leaned onto the wall, near the coffee pot and breathing calmly above his filled hot cup. As always, he offered him a beaming morning salute and handed him out the coffee pot while pointing at the donuts bag on the counter with his chin. Winter growled but somehow managed a smile.

 

They both sat at the counter to enjoy their breakfast. Steve glanced at his watch.

“I’m almost off to work” he signaled.

Winter took a deep sip of his coffee and huffed in contentment.

“Yeah, me too.”

Steve’s smile turned into a wince.

“I’m still not sure how I feel about you going on missions too.”

But the brunette shook his head before he was finished and snatched the donut out of his hand. Steve made an offended sound but his friend grinned.

“I know you’re just jealous of my skills, Rogers.”

The blonde frowned and his tone became serious.

“No, I just remember the time when you were getting beaten up every other day by some bully at your university.”

Winter froze just for a second before taking a huge bit of the pastry and swallowing it down way too fast for it to have been properly chewed. Then he replied in a lower voice:

“Nat’ll be here.”

“She’s the only reason I let you go.”

Winter looked away. They finished their breakfast with lighter talk. The brunette then headed for the bathroom while Steve took care of the washing-up - Winter promised to take his turn on it for dinner. By eight o’clock, both of them were ready when they heard strong knocks on the door.

“Coming!” called Steve.

Winter discreetly checked his smaller gun on his belt.

Steve opened the door and two persons swirled into the room, one dark-skinned and noisy and the other, redheaded and equally noisy.

“Yo man! How you’ve been doing? Isn’t that a hair I spot on your chin? Rogers, you’re really letting yourself go!” exclaimed Sam Wilson.

“Winter, my favorite art student! Slept well? You better did because I’m not watching your ass today!” chimed after Natasha Romanoff.

The two roommates shared a look and Steve burst out laughing while Winter rolled his eyes. They hugged briefly (but very deeply) and Steve was the first to leave with Sam, the Falcon carrying him away in the air. Romanoff waited for Winter to lock the entry door, her flying motorcycle waiting for them on the other side of the railing.

“So, basic stuff today. Shouldn’t be too complicated.”

She tilted her head towards Winter as if she expected him to correct her. The brunette seemed to think about it for a second then shrugged.

“I guess it wouldn’t have been more complicated if I’d had to steal from HYDRA instead.”

Natasha squinted at him.

“Yeah, well, we’re still putting a tracker on that gizmo to locate their base, aren’t we?”

Winter felt like he was under interrogation and maybe that wasn’t far from the truth. It was hard to tell if the spy trusted him and harder to know if she acted out of sheer kindness and friendship or on someone’s else behalf. (Steve had already told him how sometimes she could follow Nick Fury’s special orders that would happened to be only “slightly” different from Steve’s own orders.)

But this time, the assassin knew what she wanted to hear and he was glad to found that he completely meant his words.

“Of course we are. The more damage we do to HYDRA while maintaining my cover, the quickest I’m out of it all.”

Natasha smiled and jumped over the railing and on the motorcycle.

“Good boy” she told him.

He briefly blushed but joined her on her vehicle.

They flew to the S.H.I.E.L.D. helicarrier hovering not far away above the city.

 

*

 

Sam dropped Steve on the vastly open belly of the Quinjet before foiling his wings and settling on the ground too. Agent Hill nodded at them both and invited them to follow her to the upper level of the plane while the cargo bay doors were getting closed.

Once they were seated into the couch, Maria took out the mission’s file and put it on the table when Steve leaned to grab it and looked through all the reports and pictures from other fellow S.H.I.E.L.D. agents.

“I believe you already know your mission” she said.

Sam glanced at her but resisted the urge of making a witty comment. They were already on mission to be honest.

“Yes ma’am” Steve replied, putting the file back down.

Maria rose and replaced a strand of dark hair behind her ears.

“Perfect. I’ll leave it into your hands, then.”

She made her way to the back of the plan where she intended to take a flying motorcycle to get back to the helicarrier where she was needed. Steve rose and walked to the cockpit, followed by his friend.

“How long till our arrival?” he asked the pilot.

The woman glanced briefly at him and although she tried to sound all tough and badass - as all agents were expected to be because damn, we are __S.H.I.E.L.D.__  agents people! - she couldn’t help the tiny hint of admiration to show in her voice when she replied:

“Approximately ten minutes, sir.”

Steve smiled to her and went back on the couch. Sam settled next to him and pointed at the file on the table with his chin.

“So? What’s this thing telling us?”

Steve mulled over his answer in his head to make it the more concise possible.

“Remember that raid on an A.I.M. base?”

“The one where we found stolen weapons from S.H.I.E.L.D.?”

The blonde nodded.

“Yes. There was also a crate labeled Alexander Lukin. Fury and I have decided to take a look at the guy.”

Sam frowned skeptically.

“Because he was robbed?”

Steve bit his lips and looked at him very intensely. His answer was slow and careful.

“Because we actually don’t know if these were stolen weapons or freshly sold weapons.”

“Are you saying...”

Steve jumped on his feet.

“I’m saying that we should at least pay this man a visit. Come, the Quinjet had stopped, we’re here.”

Here - as Sam found out pretty quickly once the doors had been open - was on the roof on a real high building with a huge logo hanging mid-height. Lukin company’s logo. And the person waiting for them was none other than Lukin’s secretary.

“This way, please” say the outrageously blonde person.

 

*

 

Natasha landed the flying motorcycle on the deck of the helicarrier but they did not take off their helmet until they were inside due to the lack of oxygen at this height.

“First, let’s suit up. We’ll go unnoticed more easily.”

Winter wasn’t yet familiar with the place - he had only been there twice after all - so he let his friend lead the way. They went straight to the changing room and every time they encountered someone, he lowered his head and decidedly looked elsewhere. Once inside the room, Nat opened her locker and grabbed her uniform and Winter’s. It was still weird to put it on - because, he figured, the uniform held no more meaning to him than one of HYDRA’s.

“Come on James. You look lovely in it.”

“Don’t call me like this here!” Winter hissed in a low voice - although there was no one else around.

Natasha shrugged and closed her locker.

They left the changing room and the redhead furtively led him to a flight of metallic stairs going right inside the beast. It was supposed to be an access to the panels of wires and other pipes for the technician so it wasn’t well-lit and very handy - but most importantly, there were no cameras in here.

“That thing you need to steal, you know what it looks like?” Nat asked.

Winter rolled his eyes.

“Oh, please! Do you think I’m some kind of rookie?”

“I don’t think. I _know_ that you’re over one hundred years old and that it would be perfectly normal for you to find technology confusing.”

Natasha could tell the Soldier wanted to kill her right here and now. But maybe because she was her friend (even if he hadn’t yet remember how of an old friend she actually was) and obviously because she was teasing him, he merely glared at her before turning back to the darkness below.

“Let’s just keep moving.”

They went down the stairs in perfect silence like the two masters of espionage they were. However, at one point, Natasha grabbed him by the elbow and forced him to a sudden stop. When he frowned at her, she pointed at a grid.

“Shortcut.”

He grinned.

He stood up on the fragile railing and took the grid off with his metal arm. Natasha immediately leaped on his shoulders and then inside the air vents and from there, hauled him into it. He put the grid back in place and they started moving again.

It took them fifteen awful minutes of crawling in the not so aerated air vents to reach their destination. To be fair, for two overly-patient people like them, fifteen minutes shouldn’t have felt so bad but after less than five minutes, Natasha blurted:

“So, what about Steve? How’re things doing between the two of you?”

Winter had to stopped, feeling his cheeks suddenly burning.

“Great, I guess. We’re friends.”

Natasha - who was walking on all fours behind him - poked him in the ass.

“Come on! You can tell me everything. No, actually, I _want_  you to tell me everything. Are you two together already?”

Winter started to move again, but slower, feeling that even his hands were sweating. Fucking great.

“Well, obviously, yes ‘cause we live in the same place, if you hadn’t noticed yet!”

The redhead poked him again.

“Don’t even try to play dumb with me Barnes. I know your sense of good and bad is completely fucked up but don’t even try lying to my face about your feelings for Steve.”

The brunette stopped replying from that moment but for the rest of the trip, his heart was beating fast against his ribcage and he could feel what Natasha wanted to tell him - in fact, he could almost hear her in his head. Worst part was he wanted so bad to hear those things and agree with them. (But Steve couldn’t have any interest in him whatsoever.)

Finally, they stopped above a clear room with only two benches for furniture. Through the grid, Natasha pointed at a door facing them.

“Here’s one of the storage room” she explained, “the thing you want to steal is inside.”

Winter looked down. There was three agents. Whether they were guarding the door or simply relaxing here, they were in his way. The Soldier was already calculating how to operate when he felt a gentle hand grabbing his own. Natasha looked at him into his eyes.

“James. No killing. Remember?”

This time, he resisted the need to roll his eyes and settled on huffing.

“I was the most feared assassin on the planet long before you were even born. And not all my skills are about killing people, you know.”

He shifted on his seat so that he held his two legs above the grid.

“Watch and learn, lady.”

He brutally kicked the grid with his combat boots, throwing it off his hinges and right down on the ground. But the grid hadn’t touched it that he jumped inside the hole, an ICER in one hand. He shot the first agent at the base of his neck before his boots hit the floor. Then he turned on his heels and punched another one at full strength with his metal arm sending the poor agent knocked out on the other side of the room. The third and last one had had time to take out his weapon but the deadly look on the person standing perfectly still in front of him had him to hesitate - and the Soldier took that opportunity to shoot him directly between the two eyes.

As he checked that the three agents were definitely out of business, he heard a soft thud behind him.

“I have to admit” said Nat, “that was pretty well done. But what about this?”

She pointed at an angle of the room. Winter squinted his eyes to take a better look and his whole face went pale when he realized it was a camera.

“Oh shit.”

But his friend clapped her hand on his shoulder, grinning maliciously.

“Don’t worry lover-boy, I took care of it.”

She leaned closer to him.

“See? The young have always something to teach to the old.”

She then proceeded to unlock the storage’s door thanks to her high clearance level. Alas, as soon as they had entered it, they heard footsteps. They quickly hid behind the plentiful shelves. They didn’t see the person that came after them but clearly heard them cuss. Natasha winced.

“What’s wrong?” Winter asked.

She turned to him, vaguely irritated.

“That’s Clint.”

 

*

 

Lukin’s beautiful secretary led them to a huge room with windows giving an impressive look on the city below, comfy couches and peaceful pot plants here and there.

“Mr. Lukin will see you shortly” she told them with her endless smile.

Steve and Sam had no other option than to sit down and wait.

And they waited for an awful amount of time. Awful because they were literally wasting their day waiting and because Sam - probably out of boredom - suddenly asked:

“How is it going with Winter?”

Steve chocked and turned red on the instant.

“It’s going fine” he replied, trying to keep his voice casual.

“Fine like with a friend I guess?”

Steve nodded, biting his lips.

“Exactly. He’s a really nice fellow, I like him very much.”

Sam leaned to him, all serious.

“You see man, there’s something I wanted to ask you for a long time. What am _I_ to you?”

The blonde’s face lit up, all his nervousness disappearing at once.

“What are you talking about? You’re my best friend Sam, I love you!”

The Falcon didn’t blinked but Steve knew that the trap had just closed on him. Shit.

“Do you see where the problem is?”

Cap decided to take the subject elsewhere.

“Why are you even talking about this now?”

Sam settled back on his chair and tilted his head.

“I may or may not have discussed the matter with Nat while we were on our way to your home.”

“Of course you did” huffed Steve.

Natasha was definitely a noisy brat. Because her talking to him hadn’t worked, she had sent Wilson instead. Damn, she was probably taking her chance with Winter right now. The blonde felt bad about his roommate slash friend slash possible crush. The brunette clearly didn’t feel the same and imagining what Nat could be saying to him- Their conversation was surely awkward.

Finally, Alexander Lukin entered the room as Sam was yawning all he could.

“Captain Rogers! What an honor!” he exclaimed while shaking hands with Steve before turning to his friend. “Pleased to meet you too. Come on, gentlemen, let’s go in my office, we’ll be more comfortable to talk.”

He preceded them to go open the door then waited for them to enter before he came inside himself, closing the door behind him. Lukin’s office was as bright and restful as the waiting hall albeit a lot more smaller. The general impression was one of intimacy.

Lukin turned around his desk to sit on his chair, back on the window and invited them to sit down on the two armchairs before the piece of white furniture. Steve and Sam obeyed and Steve didn’t wait any further to begin:

“Do you know why we’re here, Mr. Lukin?”

The Russian business man crossed his fingers under his chin.

“Well, judging by the logo on your uniform, I guess you’re here on S.H.I.E.L.D.’s behalf meaning you’re probably not here to buy my beauty products.”

He winked.

“Don’t tell me you want to know if I’m a dangerous communist?”

The joke fell flat. Steve’s whole attitude was everything but open. (And to be fair, Sam was starting to feel mildly uncomfortable.)

“No. We’re here before we have retrieved a crate from A.I.M. that apparently belongs to you. And inside it, we found weapons. I might be mistaking but that doesn’t sound like a kind of beauty product.”

Lukin froze for a second. Then he untangled his fingers and sat back into his chair, his eyes floating sideways. Steve followed their direction by instinct and fell on a painting on the wall, one of green trees and hills and sea. He briefly thought that, given the man’s attachment to his mother land, it probably represented some Russian landscape and that maybe Winter knew about it.

“Yes, I see. These weapons.”

The man turned to them and leaned over his desk.

“Captain Rogers” he said in a tone that sounded as if he was done playing around, “you may not know it but I’m a powerful man. And as such, my enemies are even more powerful. You understand then that I need to protect myself. These weapons you found was merely for my bodyguards.”

Steve frowned.

“So you mean you bought them? From A.I.M.?”

There was a second of hesitation.

“I didn’t know it was A.I.M.” Lukin said very slowly.

His answer felt odd and they all knew that. Lukin obviously had been aware that he was buying the weapons for than illegal evilish organization but he couldn’t have guessed that Steve was not the least interested by that - he was more focused on the implication of Lukin being the buyer.

“But now you know. So you won’t do it again.”

“Of course.”

Steve didn’t speak anymore and the silence became more upsetting with each passing second. Eventually, Lukin sighed loudly.

“Listen Captain, you’re doing your job, I get it. But you’re doing it as a part of S.H.I.E.L.D. and I have a personal connection with Pierce who, I believe, leads S.H.I.E.L.D..”

Steve smiled - a shark smile.

“Are you threatening me, Mr. Lukin?”

The man’s eyes glared briefly.

“All I’m saying is, I’ve made a mistake but you fixed it so none of this has to become public.”

He pressed a button on his desk and the door opened with the ever-smiling secretary standing in the framework.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have important business to attend to. Carolina will show you your way out. Good afternoon, gentlemen.”

Sam reluctantly got on his feet but Steve rose up and marched to the door without looking back nor shaking hands with Lukin.

They didn’t talk until they were on the Quinjet.

“There’s something wrong” Steve said while dropping on the couch upstairs. “He’s hiding something.”

Sam chuckled dryly.

“Man’s a Russian and buys weapons from A.I.M.. Of course he’s hiding something.”

But the blonde shook his head.

“That’s not what I meant. I need to talk to Fury to-”

Before he could finish, his phone buzzed in his pocket. Steve took it out and frowned at the masked number. He still picked up the call.

“Rogers here. Who are you?”

When the voice on the other side started talking, his brow furrowed. Sam made a face at him and mouthed “who is it?” at him but he lifted his finger to his lips, listening to the person. Finally, he said:

“Yes of course Mr. Pierce. Right away, sir.”

The call ended and he stoved back his phone. Sam still looked at him expectantly. He shrugged but his own surprise could be seen on his face.

“Pierce wants me to report to him right away.”

Sam frowned.

“I know” the blonde said.

 

*

 

“Is he dangerous?” Winter asked silently at Natasha, referring to the agent who had just entered the storage room and weirdly didn’t wear a suit but a bow and a quiver.

Natasha looked at Clint and back at Winter.

“He’s an idiot” she replied, irritated.

Winter didn’t know what she meant by that but didn’t insist either. Him not wearing the regular weapons of a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent was enough to know that he was dangerous - Nat and Sam were proof of that. So he decided to be careful.

He carefully tried to reach another shelf to hide behind but before he could make it, an arrow flew three inches away from his nose and hit the shelf before exploding in light. Winter had the reflex to protect his face but he was still blind by the explosion - which was harmless otherwise.

Clint nocked another arrow and his fingers slid to place themselves on the string, brushing it gently the way you’d have done with one of a harp.

“Whoever you are, show yourself!” he yelled.

He waited for a few seconds but there was no answer - not even a sound. He sighed dramatically.

“Aw, come on! My last coffee is three hours ago and it’s like my last shift! I’m tired and I want to go home, so please, let’s get it over with.”

Winter glanced at Natasha and saw the redhead doing the gesture of strangling someone. Obviously, what she meant by “idiot” was “friend.” He stifled a smile and moved forward. As stealthy as he was, he felt the arrow missing his head by almost nothing. So he decided to rush forwards, taking advantage of the lights off and his dark suit.

“Here you are!” screamed Clint.

He shot another arrow - which the Soldier dodged pretty easily. There was literally so little distance between them than he grinned because he was certain the archer would never have time to -

Well, he did.

Winter was so surprised by Clint being able to shoot so quickly after his last arrow that he stopped brutally and raised his left arm to protect himself. He knew the arm was enough even at such little distance but once again, he was surprised when the arrow, instead of simply defecting, got stuck into the metal.

Luckily, the archer looked as surprised as him.

“What the fu-”

He couldn’t finish as the Soldier threw a punch in his stomach, breaking the shaft of the arrow in the movement. And right afterwards, Natasha had her legs wrapped around his neck and electrifying him with her bracelet.

Clint fell on the floor like a rag doll.

Natasha turned on the lights and Winter started to look for the gadget HYDRA had ordered him to steal the night before. As expected, he didn’t need much time to find it and no more to install the tracker inside. He shoved it into his pockets.

As he crossed the threshold of the storage room, he noticed that Nat hadn’t moved.

“You coming?”

The redhead shook her head before pointing at the man lying gracelessly on the floor.

“Nah. I’ll watch over him.”

She threw her moto’s keys at him.

“Have a nice day.”

“Yeah. You too.”

Winter started walking away but Natasha called him back. He turned to see her leaned on the door frame.

“Do you know what Steve’s crazy about?”

He felt his cheeks getting hot one more time.

“Again? Seriously? I just told you-”

He felt even more dumb when he heard Nat’s clear laugh. She managed to regain composure but still grinned at him.

“Carrot cake. I’m just sayin’. See you Barnes!” she finished, turning on her heels.

She went back to Clint’s side, sitting next to him and poking him on the ribs to pass time. Eventually, Barton groaned, moaned, hissed and then opened his eyes.

“You moron” she told him.

He blinked at her.

“Am I in heaven? Are you an angel?”

She gave him a glare. He sighed and sat up.

“I thought Hell’d be more welcoming” he added pitifully.

So she slapped him on the back of his head. He wasn’t perfectly awake yet, she told herself. She was only helping him out.

 

*

 

Steve was the first to come home. Winter came back a few hours later. The blonde announced to him he had ordered pizzas already and the brunette saddened.

“I thought I was supposed to make dinner today” he said, looking somewhat dismayed.

Steve came closer to him and his fingers twitched out of the urge he felt of hugging his friend. He settled on grabbing his shoulder - maybe a bit more warmly and firmly than he would have done with a normal friend.

“You already promised to do the dishes.”

The blonde noticed the box in his hands.

“Oh, what you got here?”

Winter shrugged but it was nothing more than a weak trick to hide his blushing.

“Nothing’s important.”

Steve didn’t insist. He went to rest his chin on his hand still wrapped around Winter’s shoulder and beamed at him.

“I was thinking about having a nice night, the two of us. There’s this documentary on deep seas that looks really cool. Or maybe we could just relax and read together? What do you think?”

Winter felt his lips curving into a smile and he nodded. A nice night with Steve just sounded perfect. Then he frowned and turned to his friend, getting suspicious all of sudden because why would Steve have this idea now?

“Did your mission went wrong?”

Steve opened his mouth, taken aback. Before he could think of a way to joke it off, he noticed than the suspicious look on Winter’s face had turned into an irritated look and he knew he wouldn’t get away that easily. He stepped back and leaned onto the counter.

“No, it went fine. I mean, you were right about Lukin: he’s just another business man. It’s just... Pierce called me right after because he wanted my report immediately. And like, in person. That was just a bit weird, you know”

“Pierce?” Winter repeated. He looked confused.

“Yeah, Pierce, Alexander Pierce. You know, S.H.I.E.L.D.’s big chief. Actually, I think he has the same clearance level than Fury but anyway, I just meant that... Don’t get me wrong: it’s not like I don’t trust him or anything. Guy’s got a Nobel Prize and seems really willing to help people. But he’s a politician. I don’t think he understands everything about our missions. You know what I mean?”

Winter nodded slowly. His eyes felt down on the white box between his hands and he ran his thumb absentmindedly on the rim. Steve bumped his shoulder against his.

“Sure you don’t want to tell me what this is?”

The brunette looked up at him and eventually relaxed again.

“It’s just something for after dinner. But I think you’ll like it.”

Steve’s smile was everything he could have asked for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Going back to the first chapters is like realizing I'm a damn fine mastermind who foreshadows everything while fixing the plot-holes of the future chapters (and also realizing that my writing is completely awful. why do you let me write such awful chapters guys.)


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In today's chapter: fucking finally, good ol' angst and that espionnage subplot nobody asked for.

For some reason, the Winter Soldier lost his fight against Captain America that night. It was the wrong night and he was pissed. Because of Natasha and because of SHIELD, he was doing twice the amount of missions he used to and it was taking a lot of time and energy from him (he was glad his cover identity as a art student didn’t actually require him to attend classes because he would never have made it otherwise.) Exhaustion was not something he wasn’t familiar with. To be honest, sleep deprivation was a punishment he had been acquainted to since his communist time at least (he couldn’t well remember what happened before) so this wasn’t the problem.

The problem was, the Winter Soldier was too damn lost. He didn’t want to listen to his handlers anymore - hence the downside was, he had nothing left to believe in. At the same time, HYDRA was no more treating him like the precious asset he was at the beginning. Rumlow, especially, was decided to break him. Since the man had spotted him with Steve and his friends, he had started to make fun of him. Obviously, Rumlow would never have been able to beat him in a fight. But he didn’t have to. He would tie him up and then beat him. Among other things. Humiliation, pain; HYDRA must have figured he wanted to get out and intended to remind him whom his loyalty belonged to.

And to make things worse, Captain America was over confident. That living pain in his pain was all bumped up (as if someone had given him a pep-talk - probably himself) to the point he even took his time to talk during their fight. Trying to reach out for him or whatever. His fists were hurting less than his whole speech about freedom and righteousness and how great it was to serve for a nobler cause and _how are you a disgusting puppet, Cap_.

The Winter Soldier was bitter over the old saying “your enemy’s enemy is your friend” because it was a lie. At least for him.

 

For some reason, Captain America won his fight against the Winter Soldier that night. He had him cornered and flee thanks to an helicopter full of HYDRA goons who retrieved the assassin while shooting at him. Cap watched his enemy fly away, thinking back about their one-way conversation and how the Winter Soldier had seemed confused by what he was saying. Maybe he was about to save that man?

 

*

 

Winter didn’t feel good. At all. His life was coming down to shit and it was getting worse each second because each second he was imagining what it would be like not being with HYDRA. Not being an assassin. Not even having that damn metal arm. This was the kind of idea that would not even have crossed his mind before. But Steve, Sam, Natasha... They had opened a window in his head.

Really, they should never have done this.

The door ground on its hinges and Steve entered their apartment. The blonde didn’t make it loud and obvious, though - as he would have normally done - and Winter was grateful for that. His friend passed behind his back to reach his bedroom wherein he rummaged for a few minutes before stepping back into the living-room and heading for the kitchen. Winter didn’t move, just kept staring blankly at the black TV screen. Like old times, you would say.

Steve came to sit on the couch not long afterwards. He put a hot mug on the coffee table before Winter and sat down with his own. The hot beverage was fuming and its cinnamon-honey scent seemed to take all the place inside Winter’s nose. The man carefully grabbed the mug and breathed closer in it.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Steve then asked softly.

Maybe it was the smoke. Or the liquid’s hotness. Or both of them. But tears was starting to stream down his face and his exhaustion never felt so heavy on his shoulders and his mind. The brunette tried drinking but he couldn’t swallow so he put down the mug and drew his legs against his chest. He buried his face inside his knees to hide it.

“This is all bullshit.”

He could feel Steve by his side. Not moving, not talking, but so damn here. So physically, soothingly here.

“Bullshit” he repeated. “I’m so tired of that- Steve, I’m so tired.”

He raised his head and saw that Steve had put down his mug too and had sprawled on the couch in an open gesture. Winter didn’t hesitate much; he left his position and came to lay within the embrace, resting his head on his friend’s powerful chest. The tears had stopped but his breathing hadn’t settled down yet. They stayed that way for some time - until Winter’s breath was even again and his mind was cleared up. He chuckled.

“You’re so kind to me.”

He felt Steve’s arms closed tighter on him, his thumbs running soothing circles on his shoulder and his belly.

“That’s because you’re my friend, Winter” Steve answered with a low voice that was no more than a hot breath near his forehead.

The assassin lifted his head to stare into Steve’s eyes.

“Am I?”

The blonde licked his lips and he answered slowly, almost carefully.

“Yes you are.”

Winter felt something falling inside his chest - like his heart had suddenly gained too much weight - and bitterness filled his mouth. Of course. A friend. Nothing more.

He recoiled deeper, enjoying the warmth embrace as it lasted and trusting he would never get more.

 

*

 

After a long time, Steve yawned and wriggled, not feeling his feet anymore. Winter rose suddenly, announcing that he was going to take a shower. Steve told him he would take that opportunity to cook dinner and asked if pasta was okay - the answer came as a muffled sound through the already closed door.

The blonde went behind the kitchen counter and sprayed cold water on his face before washing his hands. The intimate moment was fresher in his mind and he couldn’t but repeat to his self how a big dumbass he had been. As if Winter was a simple friend to him. Way to go Rogers. Way to go.

Pasta was not a hard deal so Steve picked one of their cooking books - they had three; the first one was about preparing healthy meals and was a gift from Sam while the second one was all about sauces and came from Natasha (the last one concerned the desserts, sweets, coffee and was a gift from Sharon after he had admitted to her he didn’t know what a floating island was) - and chose one of the hardest sauce he had ever tried. That kept him pretty busy. He barely noticed when Winter came back from the shower, his hair messily tangled inside a towel and started to grab the plates and the rest to set everything up on the coffee table. When he was done, he got into his room to fetch his book and read on the couch until Steve was finished.

(As it turned out, the sauce lacked from half the components, the over-cooked mushrooms had ended in the trashcan and there was too much olive oil. But Winter didn’t have to know what he had tried to do.)

They sat down on the couch with their plate on their lap and Steve turned the TV on. They went through the channels, not finding something interesting - their favorite detective show was airing an episode they had already seen and the upcoming election had the other channels crowded with political debates. Eventually, they ended up on a romantic movie. A slightly different romantic movie from what they could have expected to be honest.

Steve glanced at Winter - the brunette hadn’t blinked. Steve cautiously asked:

“You want to watch something in particular?”

His roommate turned to him but didn’t answer so he continued, feeling more nervous.

“I mean, I’ve heard of that movie. It’s, er, interesting. ‘Cause, you know, the love story is between two guys.”

His cheeks were burning and his heart running faster than during all his fights against the HYDRA’s assassin.

Winter finally blinked.

“Okay. And?”

This was awkward. He should change the channel now.

“Well, it’s just that... Back in my days - I mean, when I was younger - we didn’t have that kind of movie. Not... yet. And, er, I think it’s interesting to see diversity. Y’know. It’s cool.”

Steve wanted to bury himself fifty thousand feet underneath the ground. And have everyone forget he ever existed.

But Winter mildly shrugged.

“If this is what you want, we can watch it.”

And he started eating his pasta. Steve turned the volume a bit up - because they weren’t quite distinguished people who ate in silence - and settled comfortably on the couch. The first bites were hard to swallow but soon he got caught up into the story and forgot about his earlier embarrassment.

The movie’s title was _The Clouds Before the Sun_  and it started less as a rom-com and more as a drama movie. There were two main protagonists: Josh and Clay. Josh was openly gay and loved to wear V-neck shirts while Clay was a closeted gay who hadn’t come in term with his homosexuality when the story began. They also had a female friend, Rachel, a clever but depressed woman, stuck in an unhappy marriage for three years now. The movie revolved around the two men addressing their love for each other but being unsure of their wedding - of what it could do to them. The whole point was that they wanted to get married but they were afraid that their marriage would end up like the one of their friend Rachel - and plot twist: Rachel’s husband was as sad as her that it wasn’t working between the two of them.

As the peak part of the movie - when Clay had turned down Josh’s proposal because he had decided he didn’t want to get married to anyone, ever - Steve felt his chest tightened. When he turned to Winter, he saw that his friend had his eyes fixed on the screen and his lower lips lightly shaking.

Eventually, everyone - Josh and Clay, Rachel and her husband - ended up happy within their relationship and the movie closed on both of the couples doing the paperwork together for adoption (because Rachel couldn’t get pregnant.)

The loud announcement for the lottery’s result that interrupted the credits had the two roommates to jump. Steve blinked a few times and Winter looked down at his plate, still filled with some sparse pasta. It bugged him - but it was cold now. He sighed and disregarded the plate on the coffee table. He turned to Steve and Steve noticed his expression was somewhat soft.

“That was a good movie” he said.

“Yep” the blonde replied, not finding anything else to say.

They let their attention get driven back to the screen now blathering about commercials and dumb reality TV shows.

Without looking at him, Winter scooted to the middle of the couch, making his hand to rest right next to Steve’s thigh. Steve turned red again and couldn’t ignore the memory of Natasha telling - ordering - him to take Winter’s hand just once. Just to know how that would feel. He couldn’t ignore either the loud screaming of half his brain that saw in this hand way to close to his own body a _clear invitation_  and for God’s sake, Rogers, just take it!

So Steve took Winter’s hand.

Winter flinched at the touch and his eyes darted to Steve’s but then he promptly smiled and squeezed his hand. Steve got unsure of what was happening outside Winter’s eyes because he couldn’t hear anything except for his heart bumping inside his chest.

The brunette hauled his leg on the couch and his prosthetic hand went to rest on Steve’s thigh. Steve was already out of his mind. Then Winter leaned forwards and kissed him.

It was purely a chaste kiss. Winter closed his lips and pressed them against Steve’s for a few seconds after which he moved back.

Steve took in a sharp breath.

“Winter-”

“Thank you for being so nice with me.”

Steve couldn’t think anymore. Not when Winter was looking at him with such a honest and vivid look. He raised his hand and cupped Winter’s chin before letting it slid beneath his neck so that Steve could drew him into a second kiss. A longer, deeper kiss.

“I love you Winter” he said between the two seconds he needed to catch his breath.

The blonde couldn’t believe he was saying this. Actually, he could - he had already said it a few days ago, after that disastrous night at the bar - but this time was completely different. _He meant it_ , from the bottom of his heart, to every single one of his cells and with all his soul.

Meanwhile, Winter was responding delightfully under him. One of his hand was still squeezing his’ while the other was tucking on his shirt. Steve pressed further and he finally parted his lips. Their kiss heated up, became electrical. Steve removed his hand from Winter’s grip and hooked it into his jeans, his fingers sneaking underneath the fabric of both the pants and the boxer. It was insane and he knew it - but he couldn’t help himself. He found Winter’s jean’s button and fumbled with it in a hasty attempt to unfasten it. He succeeded and his fingers brushed against the tinder part of Winter’s body.

Which became the exact moment Winter tensed up. One second later, he was pushing Steve away with all his strength before he jumped back on the other side of the couch, a whole look of horror on his face.

Steve felt confused - and somewhat upset.

“What’s going on?”

Winter’s breathing was heavy and erratic - and it was obviously not because of love. More because of intense stress. Steve tried to reach out but Winter flinched again and recoiled further.

“Winter, please, talk to me.”

The brunette gave him the darkest look he had ever received from him.

“Why do you want to do that.”

His voice was no more than a murmur. But Steve could distinctly hear the hatred within that murmur. He felt hurt. Bitterness replace warmth on his lips. He rose up and walked towards the kitchen. He filled up the kettle and waited besides it until the water had boiled. He prepared two cups - strong, black tea, with sugar for Winter and nothing for him - and returned to the couch but was careful to actually stand behind it.

“Okay, I don’t know what’s going on” he began “but I’d like-”

Winter interrupted him. His breathing had settled down and he was staring at the TV screen, refusing to look at him.

“No. Listen. I’m sorry I panicked. You can go on, actually.”

Steve chuckled dryly.

“What? What are you talking about?”

Winter still avoided looking in his direction. His cheeks ignited.

“I said you can go on. I won’t move away. I promise.”

Something cringey crept under Steve’s skin. But his main feeling was anger. He didn’t like it when someone made a fool of him. Especially if that someone was the person he had fell in love with and to whom he had confessed said love not ten minutes ago.

“Winter, what game are you playing at?” he asked more harshly than he should have.

This time, his roommate turned to him. His eyes flashed with resentment and shame.

“What are _you_  talking about? That’s what you wanted Rogers, so go on! I won’t move away!”

The blonde was getting irritated.

“Winter, I am not going to do something you don’t agree to.”

It was Winter’s turn to chuckle humorlessly.

“Yeah, right.”

“What.”

Anger and hurt. These were the two only remaining emotions within Steve. He couldn’t understand why Winter was doing this to him but by the little he did understand it was enough for him. First time he was feeling love since he had woken up. And here was the result. Fucking nice.

“Well, _fuck you_ , Winter.”

The blonde went back to the kitchen counter and slammed Winter’s mug on it. Then he got into his bedroom and slammed his bedroom’s door.

Winter remained alone in the living-room.

His anger regarding Steve’s betrayal was dying out and only remained his own shame at his incapacity of satisfying him. He felt vaguely nauseous about it but above all, he had the urgent need to talk to someone.

He ran into his bedroom - didn’t forget to lock the room - and threw himself on his bed. He recoiled against his pillow and took out his phone. It didn’t take much longer to call Sam. He closed his eyes while waiting for the Falcon to answer.

“Hello?”

The sound of a friendly voice - a honest, open voice - was too much for him; he broke down into tears and nonsense babbling.

“Sam, I fucked up. Listen to me, I fucked up so bad. I fucked up and I don’t know what- I can’t- I- I-”

“Man, calm down” said Sam’s voice authoritatively. And that was enough to shut him up. “Take deep breaths.”

Winter sat up and breathed in and out.

“Better?” asked Sam.

“Yes.”

“Now, tell me everything.”

Winter’s eyes drifted away to his giraffe plush. His heart tightened with guilt once again but he didn’t let it overwhelm him and managed to keep his voice even.

“We were watching a movie and it was about- No, nevermind. It’s just that- It just felt good, okay? So I kissed him and it was good at the beginning too. But then he-”

The brunette had to stop and take another breath. Sam didn’t interrupt him.

“But then Steve wanted to go into my pants. So I, like, freaked out. And that pissed him off. I mean, _obviously_. Then I told him I wouldn’t move and be good and all but it made him even more angrier. I don’t know what I did wrong Sam. I don’t want Steve to kick me out. What am I supposed to do now?”

Sam didn’t answer right away. No other sounds but his calm breathing could be heard so it wasn’t because he was doing something else. Winter fiddled with his giraffe. He closed two fingers around its neck. Two fingers was enough to strangle it.

Finally, Sam spoke again.

“Listen, man. I’m sorry but I’m pretty sure I’m definitely not the person you need right now. So, here’s what you’re gonna do: you’re gonna call Nat and you’re gonna tell her exactly what you’ve just told me. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“Perfect. Good night Winter. And, er, don’t worry. We’ll figure it out.”

“Thanks, Sam.”

Sam hanged up and for a second, Winter just stared at his phone’s screen. Then he called Nat - who answered after a few ringings - and he gave her the same report (maybe a little more detailed because he was calmer now) he gave Sam. She didn’t seem to be surprised. In fact she didn’t let out any emotion at all. She gave him the address of a coffee shop and asked him to meet her there at nine, next day. Then she hanged up.

 

The next day was chill, with no sun to be seen but not clouds either. They sat on the terrace of the coffee shop. There weren’t many people yet. Natasha was wearing a sexy pink jumper, an awful platinum blonde wig and monstrous glasses that hid half of his face under pink, glitters and tainted lens. She wrapped her perfectly polished nails around her glass of mojito and smiled peacefully to him.

“The pawn shop. Behind me. Can you see it?”

Winter barely moved his eyes - a normal person would never have noticed he even moved them.

“Yes.”

“It’s a cover for A.I.M. operatives. According to my sources a weapon sale is about to happen at any moment now.”

Winter slouched against the back of his chair and stretched lazily. Then he casually leaned towards Natasha again.

“I don’t see anyone” he informed her with a quiet voice.

“Keep looking.”

The redhead-turned-blonde-today took her straw between her lips and slowly settled them around it before sipping her drink. Winter discreetly looked on the ground, examining everyone’s bag.

Then Natasha swallowed loudly and he went back to her face. She wasn’t smiling anymore.

“So. Steve.”

She let a second pass. Although he couldn’t see her eyes, Winter was fairly certain she was pissed.

“Care to explain? What the fuck did you do James?”

He sighed loudly. The night before had been hectic, full of nightmares from both his past and present but at least now he could see clearly into his situation.

“I told you. Steve wanted to have sex with me and I panicked. I know I shouldn’t have, but I’m fine now. I just need you to find a way to convince Steve to take what he wants from me before he kicks me- Ouch!”

Winter looked incredulously at Nat’s single finger thrust into the back of his flesh hand. He stared up at her, confused as hell. Nat took back his finger, leaving a pinky mark on his skin and removed her glasses.

“Listen to me, James. Because this will be the only time ever I’ll say it to you. You. Owe. Steve. Nothing. Am I clear?”

Winter mindlessly massaged his right hand - it didn’t hurt that much and the mark was already gone.

“I know Steve’s not my handler, Nat. I’m not that stupid, for Stalin’s sake! It’s just that it’s logic that if I don’t give him what he wants, he’ll kick me out of our house. And I don’t want that.”

“Why?”

“’Cause I like living there.”

Nat stared at him for a moment. Then she took out her straw from her glass and finished her drink in one shot.

“Let’s start from the beginning” she said. “Steve loves you - that’s for sure. Do you love Steve?”

Winter winced. ‘Love’ was really an abstract concept to him to be honest - even more than friendship or freedom - and how could he name something he wasn’t sure he could feel anymore...?

Nat closed her eyes briefly.

“Is Steve the dearest person on Earth for you and did you like kissing him?”

This time, there was no hesitation.

“Yes, totally.”

Natasha smirked. Her eyes scanned her surroundings casually before they went back to Winter.

“So this is settled. Now, the problem is, Steve doesn’t know what you’ve been through and what you’re still going through. He doesn’t know your body doesn’t belong to you anymore. In fact I’m not even sure you know that yourself. So until we have broken you out of HYDRA, we need to protect you.”

“That doesn’t tell me how I should convince Steve to have sex with me.”

“You don’t. This is your answer James: _you don’t_.”

Winter huffed.

“You can’t be serious.”

Natasha rose an eyebrow.

“I am, though. You’re going to go back home and you’re going to tell Steve exactly how you feel. And what I mean by that is, how you feel about _him_  and how you feel about _sex_.”

Winter scolded.

“He’s gonna push me away.”

Natasha put her giant glasses on again.

“I’ll murder him if he does.”

The brunette didn’t reply. He seemed to mull over Nat’s words. On one hand, kissing Steve was definitely the best thing that had happened to him for a long time. On the other hand, anything else would be... “Not possible” - to say the least. For sure, he didn’t want to lose Steve. But Nat’s words had awaken something else inside him. The desire to possess his own body again.

“They’re here” he said eventually.

“I know. I’m looking at them.”

Natasha had thrown her head backwards and from anyone’s point of view, it just looked like she was trying to warm her face to the diffuse rays of the hidden sun - when, really, she was spying on the group of five men standing before the pawn shop with the corner of her eyes.

“Something’s wrong” Winter added.

The redhead frowned behind her tainted glasses. She had felt it too. But she couldn’t quite grasp what it was - yet.

Suddenly, one of the men opened his jacket to search for something inside and they both saw the symbol on his chest - and tensed up.

“They’re SHIELD’s agents” the brunette huffed.

“Let’s go” she ordered.

 


	13. Chapter 13

There are times when the fight is harder than usual. Times when the Winter Soldier seems more in shape than ever, punching at the right places (or the wrong - where it hurt the more anyway) and having some telepathic connection with HYDRA, seemingly being in touch with them while not uttering a single word - not one he could hear at least and he had good hearing - so he can set up a trap to which Steve would barely escape with his life (and because Nat somehow has his back, in the same strange way that HYDRA has the Soldier’s back).

There are times when the fight is harder than usual. Times when Captain America is more a pain in the ass than ever, flying his freedom Frisbee as if he telepathically controls it, and having the Falcon rains down on him when he tries to flee through the rooftops of the city.

But there are times, too, when the hardest thing isn’t the other’s strength or unusual motivation; but their own mental state. Times when Captain America is saddened and bitter because Winter has rejected him although he was the one to make the first step. Times when the Winter Soldier is tired and disillusioned because Steve has once again praised an American institution that isn’t better than HYDRA.

And of course, there are times - one, to be specific - when the two of them are due back home but stuck in this fight nonetheless.

Thus this was a strange ballet to witness in that empty warehouse near the docks under the bluest sky of march; the two of them fought with their last energy - to the point one couldn’t say if they wanted to win fast or die faster - and as the same time, they were slippery to one another, always looking for a way out - but the warehouse had its entries blown up by SHIELD and then clogged by HYDRA. When his shield got stuck in the concrete pillar on the other side of the vast empty space, Steve swore because Winter was going to end him to be that late. When Captain America succeeded to tackle him down and put electric handcuffs on him, Winter swore because Steve would never talk to him again if he wasn’t right on time. The situation seemed like a dead end - to the utmost dismay of the two opponents - when out of nowhere someone opened fire on them from the nearest building’s roof. Despite the clear light of the early afternoon, they couldn’t guess a thing about that new fighter but the shooting was so random or, at the contrary, so equally aimed at the two of them that they implicitly decided to stop their fight and fled on separate direction.

 

Winter arrived at their apartment, sweating profusely but probably more from the stress than because of his earlier fight. The door wasn’t locked. He winced. Steve was certainly already there. Certainly already waiting. The assassin looked down at his gear as if it had magically transformed into his casual hoodie and comfy pants - it hadn’t. Fortunately, the window of his room was right besides the door. He slid it open with his metal arm (he had promised himself he wouldn’t do it but that was a huge emergency) and as he sneaked into his bedroom, he felt his phone buzzing inside his pocket. He didn’t look up because he was fairly sure it was HYDRA. During his way home, he had typed a quick report - he was supposed to go to the Brooklyn’s HQ at every end of his missions but this time, there was no time. So he had just sent another text - _My roommate has settled a meeting. Can’t be late or cover compromised._  - and called it a day. Thus this message he had just received was either his handlers confirming he had to report ASAP or cursing at him and threatening him. Actually, there might not be any difference between the two.

Winter tried to listen. There were noises coming from the living-room, like someone shifting on the couch - but no voice. He tried not to interpret that. (Is Steve already pissed?)

The assassin quickly got rid of his combat suit and although he had always been someone to tidy up his stuff all the time, he threw the cargo pants and the constricting jacket across his room. No time for being tidy either. He opened his closet to grab some casual ordinary art student clothes when the question hit him. Hard.

How the hell are you supposed to dress on your birthday?

He had been so focused on that warehouse mission - a monitor enemies, shoot one specific target and get the hell out of here without being seen type of mission - that he had completely forgotten about that part. He shot a distressed glance at his phone lying on his bed but it was too late for Natasha to come rescue him, wasn’t it? Sam was also probably on his way already so no help coming from him either. It was up to him and his closet full of thrash.

_Stalin’s boots._

He was late and he would be poorly dressed too. Good job Winter.

As he rummaged into his dull and cheap clothes, he thought back on how this all began. It was only three days after the “kissing accident” and two days after they were back together; Winter was reading some American literature ( _ _The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn__  - it mildly rang a bell to the far too far past of his) when Steve came from behind and wrapped his buff arms around his neck and rested his chin in the crook of his neck.

“I was wondering” the blonde started, “when’s your birthday actually?”

Winter choked because, of all the questions, this one was the last one he expected. And he had to think about it before he could properly answer. The question seemed all the more suspicious due to the fact he had only recently remembered it - actually it was a few days before, on the 10th of March. Did Steve wanted to ambush him? Wait, what for? Sensing that he was starting to panic, he blurted out a random date.

“Er, 17th of October.”

 _Good save_ , he thought at that moment. Too long ago for Steve to do anything about it and too long from now for him to remember when it would happen again. Briefly, Winter wondered how random was that date but then Steve stood up and clapped his hands. Winter twisted his head to look at him. The blonde seemed mildly pissed.

“Right. Nice. So I freaking missed it by months. Freaking great. I’m the best friend in the universe.”

“Steve-”

But the man had already taken out his phone and was checking something on it, eyebrows crossed as always when he was focusing on technology. So cute. Eventually, he made eyes contact with the brunette again.

“You’re free on this Saturday?”

“Yeah” Winter replied without thinking.

“Awesome. I’m calling Nat and Sam, we’ll throw a party.”

He was already gone into his room when he popped his head out.

“Oh, sorry, I mean: if that’s okay with you. Sam and Nat?” (Winter nodded.) “Great. Call your friends too, I’ll be happy to meet them!”

Obviously, Winter hadn’t any “friends” outside of the little quartet they formed. But Steve was stubborn so here he was, Saturday, 2 pm, with his only pair of jeans and a nice blue and white-stripped shirt with a star in the middle in his arms. He took a deep breath and went inside the bathroom.

 

Steve arrived at their apartment and immediately noticed that the door wasn’t locked. He rolled his eyes and scolded himself. Of course Winter was home already - there was no class on Saturdays, Rogers! Home and waiting. Way to go to throw the perfect birthday party. A voice in the back of his head raised the objection that he would have been here earlier if it hadn’t been for Pierce. Steve was proud to be a good soldier, follow orders, report to your superiors. But why did Pierce want a report so soon? How did he even know Steve ran into the Winter Soldier when the fight was barely over? Nonetheless, Pierce wanted to hear him - and in person, lest someone would be listening.

Steve groaned and turned the doorknob. At least, his forced detour had allowed him to trade his stealth suit to casual clothes - and his shield was safely tucked in its bag. The blonde entered the apartment. And froze when he spotted Winter.

The brunette was apparently freshly out of the shower because his hair, perfectly combed and tied in a lousy bun, was dripping lightly on his shoulders. He was also wearing what happened to be one of Steve’s shirt - Steve had found it one day when shopping with Sam and the shirt’s drawing mimicking the one of his stealth suit’s had amused him so much he had brought it. (And later, he had passed it on to his roommate when this one took a shower but forgot to bring fresh clothes with him.)

“Hi” he said.

That was dull. Winter eyed him suspiciously.

“Hi” he said back.

“Yeah and hello there!” a voice burst in from the TV’s area.

They both turned to see Sam standing near the couch, his arms crossed on his chest. Although he tried to look annoyed, his smile denied it. Steve closed the distance between them to shake hands with him vigorously.

“Hi, Sam! I’m so happy you’re here and er,” he glanced at the ceiling and the decoration hanging from it, “thank you so much for taking care of that when I was... outside.”

Sam’s smile brightened, revealing his luminous teeth.

“No problem, man! Go change now, you look like trash which is rather rude to your boy.”

The blonde blushed and after one last glance towards said “boy,” darted into his room. Luckily, his change was waiting for him on his bed. The picture of Winter, standing between the door to his room and the kitchen island, with his hair wet and the fabric of his shirt sticking to his chest in some places was floating behind his open eyes and he couldn’t stop blushing because damn. Winter was so beautiful.

Steve could remember the awful night he had spent after that even more awful attempt at making out with his roommate. He was sure it was the good mood, the good moment and a reciprocate feeling but all of sudden, the brunette had acted all weird and Steve had felt rejected. The bitter sensation stuck with him all night and the day afterwards until he had come home, only to find Winter standing in the doorway, fidgeting nervously with the rim of his tee-shirt.

“I, er, we need to talk” the brunette had said.

But Steve was in no mood to talk with someone who had so blatantly rejected all of his feelings. He walked quickly past Winter with the clear intention of locking himself in his room but the other man caught his arm.

“Please don’t leave me, I love you!”

That last part made him stop. Right away. He turned his head to face his friend but didn’t open his mouth. But nor did he make Winter release his grip on his sleeve.

“Look, I- I, er, well Natasha told me that- Oh shit, no, no, no. Forget that. I didn’t-”

He bit his lips. One single tear shone in the corner of his ocean eye. As if he were hypnotized, Steve approached his fingers to wipe it away, slowly realizing that he might not have been the only one hurt in the disaster of the previous day.

Winter leaned into the embrace and breathed loudly.

“It’s just that I’m lost. So I called her. And she told me to tell you the truth.”

The rest got out so quickly Steve nearly didn’t catch it.

“And the truth is that I love you but I don’t want to have sex with you.”

The brunette tensed immediately as if he was waiting to be hit or pushed away. Steve looked at him with confusion.

“That’s... all?”

After that nightmarish night and that never-ending day, after all he had thought about his acts, about what had made the whole thing go to shit, Winter was just... not interested in sex?

“Well, yeah.”

The brunette sounded like he had just revealed his darkest secret or that he was in terminal stage of his sickness - or something of that degree of seriousness. Steve couldn’t believe it. He rolled his eyes, hard - and then he was kissing the hell out of his now declared boyfriend.

Sam knocked on his door - and Steve came back to the present.

“I’m almost done!” he yelled.

“No it’s fine, take your time, man” the Falcon replied, “I just got a text from Nat, she says she’ll be a bit late.”

“Oh, OK. Thank you.”

After a quick moment of thinking and trying to know if his pants were on the right side, he yelled again:

“Tell her it’s no problem! I’ve got candies to make us wait!”

 

*

 

When Natasha got there, the birthday party really began. The redhead smashed two big kisses on Winter’s cheeks while Sam asked for his age - and he babbled something along the lines of “twenty-six.” While Natasha disposed the gifts on the coffee table, Steve went into the kitchen to go get the birthday cake. It was a simple chocolate cake with brown icing and a “Happy Birthday Winter” written in whipped cream over it.

They all took a piece and ate in comfortable silence. Then Natasha, who was sitting on the floor - while Steve and Winter were on the couch and Sam on a chair - started clapping her hands like a five-years-old on a Christmas day.

“Now, the presents! Open them, open them!”

Winter blushed and grabbed the biggest one - Steve’s. He unwrapped it - with a weirdly great difficulty - to reveal a box of paint tubes. Steve wriggled besides him.

“I know you must have everything you need already but I found these colors and they’re not ordinary and well, no, I mean, _I_  think they aren’t but-”

“Thanks, Steve.”

The blonde turned red too and he sheepishly pointed at another package.

“There’s more.”

It was three canvas: a big, a medium and a little sized one. That made Winter smiled. He put down the tubes and the canvas and nuzzled his nose into Steve’s neck before giving him a kiss. After that, he opened Sam’s gift: it was a diary with a green, nature themed cover - pine trees and mountain.

“I didn’t know if you had followed my advice of writing every day so I brought you this notebook to be sure you’ll do it.”

“I did but thanks Sam. I like the cover. I think I’ll use that one from now on.”

They hugged and afterwards, Natasha presented him her gift with a wicked smile. It was a rectangular thing. Winter tore the paper hiding it and huffed when he saw what it was. The two others boys leaned to see.

“Oh” Steve said while Sam frankly burst out laughing.

“It matches Sam’s notebook!” exclaimed the redhead, opening the box to retrieve the vivid green pencil with fluff at the end.

“It does” Steve acknowledged seriously.

Winter shot him a glare and he tried hiding his amusement - in vain.

“Well, _thank you_  Nat” Winter said in the most ironic tone ever.

The brunette gathered his gifts and went into his room. He dropped them on his bed and sat next to them. He opened his dresser and looked at the cheap and cornered notebook it contained. With a smile, he grabbed the one Sam just offered him when his door suddenly opened.

“Nat!”

He looked at the redhead with a mix of anger and confusion. No one had ever entered his room except him. This was his sanctuary or, rather, the cave for his dark secrets. No art here; only guns and knives and combat suits and sometimes stains of blood.

But Natasha carefully closed the door behind her and came to stand before him, holding another package. Her wicked smile was gone and she was grave when she handed it out to him.

“What’s that?” the brunette asked, suspicious.

“The pencil was a joke, James. This is my real gift.”

Now, he was curious. He unwrapped the colorful paper to reveal a teddy bear. But not any teddy bear: the plush was wearing a uniform he hadn’t seen in a thousand years but still screeched at his memory the instant he lay his eyes on it. The bear also carried a black-and-white picture showing a man with short hair in that same uniform.

Winter felt anger boiling through his veins. His hands clenched on the plush - and suddenly he rose to his feet and threw it to the other side of the room, so hard it made a loud thud when it hit the wall. Then Winter turned to Natasha and slammed her on the hard wall, his metal fingers closing on her throat.

“Why?! Why are you always giving me shit like that?! Can’t you fucking leave me alone for one fucking day!”

Nat stared into his eyes without blinking.

“No.”

The surprise had him relax his grip and she pulled his arm away.

“No, James. I won’t.”

“Why?”

He felt exhausted, all of sudden.

“Because you have to remember.”

“I don’t want to.”

“It’s important.”

His eyes drifted away, falling on his birthday presents on his bed then on the teddy bear. All of his rage came back at once. He walked to it, picked it up and very obviously tossed it in his laundry basket.

“But I don’t _want_  to!”

Natasha shrugged. She left his room without saying anything more.

Winter threw himself on his bed. Perfect. Now, his good mood was completely ruined. Which means he couldn’t go back to the others - he would ruin their good mood too. He let his head fall backwards to come resting on the wall. What was wrong with Nat? Couldn’t she understand that he didn’t want to remember? He had remembered enough to know that HYDRA was lying to him. But he didn’t want to know more about his past. There were only killings in it. No sweet things like... Like having a friend throwing him a birthday party. No. More than a friend.

His gaze fell on the paint tubes. He grabbed the box and looked closer at them. Steve was right; this wasn’t the colors you would find and use commonly. It was paler and more ambiguous colors. Winter bent over his bed and retrieved from beneath another box, filled with tubes and brushes. He had never used them obviously - it was only a part of his cover. But he was feeling like doing something with these unusual colors.

He grabbed the smaller canvas and used his bottle of water to humidify the brush. And he started painting. He didn’t know what - and didn’t care either. It was more like lines and stains and whatever forms came to his mind. He lost himself on the process. Just staring at the canvas, just putting a layer of pigments on it and a new layer over it and over and over, seeing the painting moving and morphing as he added more paint over already dried ones - or not at all - mixing them, letting them spread on the canvas. And as he did so, he was recitating Akhmatova’s poetry and hummed some melodies he didn’t recall remembering. Both in English - and it felt nostalgic - and in Russian - and it felt like soothing white. In fact, the whole thing was relaxing. It cleared his mind and appeased his heart. When he realized he was done, he had in mind a memory of a clear day on a rooftop of a Brooklyn’s building, alongside a young and skinny blonde boy.

He rose up and went back into the living-room, holding his painting. But when he arrived, he saw Natasha and Sam putting their coats on.

“Wait, you’re leaving?”

His heart ached.

“Is it because of me? I’m sorry...”

Steve opened his mouth but Sam answered before he could, frowning.

“No it’s not. We’re leaving because Steve asked us to.”

He turned to Steve and gestured to him to have him maybe explain the situation.

“I thought you said you wanted the two of you to be alone for the evening.”

The blonde blushed.

“I did.”

He brushed the hair he didn’t have in his neck (because his haircut was too short - but it was fine, it was cute) and timidly moved towards his boyfriend.

“You know, I thought we could... Well, it’s been a while since I wanted to do it and I thought this was the perfect opportunity.”

“To do what?” asked Winter, as lost and confused as if someone had just pulled him out of cryo.

“Going on a date” Steve replied and he turned redder than ever.

Natasha chuckled and Sam slammed his hand on his back.

“Exactly! It’s high time. So have fun and don’t do anything stupid!”

Without any more delay, their two friends walked out of their apartment. The men could hear them talking to each other while going down the metallic stairs.

“Sooo” Winter started, unsure. “Do I need to put something else on?”

 

*

 

The weather was nice. Winter had put on a black leather jacket belonging to Steve - he was mostly dressed with Steve’s clothes but it actually felt nice for that exact reason. Steve was letting him borrowing his stuff and it was as if the blonde was constantly hugging him. (Winter took a mental note to raid Steve’s closet ASAP when he wasn’t looking.)

“So, where do you want to go?” asked the oblivious man. “We could go to a restaurant or go watch a movie?”

Winter thought about it for a second.

“I liked the amusement park, last time. I want to try more attractions. Please” he added with his little smile and his smooth voice that he knew would have Steve walk to Hell and back.

And Steve would never mind, of course.

They tried bumpers cars - Winter thought he would win because of Rogers’ inner instinct of following rules and all but damn, __was he wrong__  - and another shooting range he totally __destroyed__  because he had since had time to figure out all the tricks the showman was using.

“That was amazing!” Steve told him as they were heading back home.

The brunette was holding tight on his prize - a stuffed elephant way too blue to look like a natural one.

“I know. That’s ‘coz I’m an amazing guy.”

Steve chuckled and pulled him into an embrace. It wasn’t easy to walk that way but Winter would never trade places, not even for everything in the world. The moon was shining on a dark sky and the lights of the city were reflected into that blind space. There weren’t many people on the streets and the conversations were mostly quiet. Winter felt good. Happy.

That is, until his phone buzzed in his pocket.

He parted from Steve and put the elephant under his armpit so he had both his hands free to manipulate his phone. It was HYDRA obviously. Last warning. He winced.

“Something’s wrong?” Steve asked.

Winter glanced at him. For a second, he considered lying. But it was dangerous for himself.

“Yeah. I forgot to do something.”

“Oh. Don’t worry, I’m sure we can do it-”

The brunette shook his head.

“No. I have to do it alone. Just go ahead, don’t wait for me. I’ll see you in the morning.”

Steve looked suddenly down. But he didn’t even try to argue. He took the plush and only required a goodnight kiss before walking away. Winter watched him leave with his heart tight - and somehow hoping Steve wouldn’t listen and would wait for him. He’d like for them to sleep together. Like when Steve had been badly injured.

Sighing, Winter headed for HYDRA’s HQ. On his way, he texted Steve. He arrived five minutes after the blonde was already home and had sent him a picture of his elephant near a steaming cup of tea. Winter laughed and tucked his phone away before doing the secret knock on the door. A HYDRA’s officer opened and the Winter Soldier entered the HQ. Maybe because he was still deep in thoughts about Steve, maybe because he had become less a killing machine than a casual human lately, whichever it was, he didn’t see the attack coming. Next thing he knew, he was handcuffed on a chair, his phone lying on the table in front of him.

_Shit._

“We have procedures, Soldier” his handler said, not even looking up from his file.

“I know” he replied.

His phone had to be turned off ten minutes away from HQ. How did he forget to do it? Oh, yeah, Steve. He closed briefly his eyes. Report, endure the pain and soon you’ll see him. That was all that mattered.

“So why didn’t you follow them?” the slim man in uniform asked.

“I forgot to.”

There was a brief pause.

“How.”

Before he could answer, another voice came in.

“I think it’s pretty clear how.”

At the sound of this - hated - voice, Winter immediately lifted his head to scan the room. It was poorly lit - as always, with only one feeble lamp on the table - but the man’s silhouette was perfectly visible. Rumlow. Winter felt his heart accelerating. Rumlow often wasn’t here. And everytime he was, it meant pain. The brunette had the sudden realization that this wasn’t only about the phone.

“Indeed, we have a problem.”

A third man had entered the room and when he heard him, Winter had the urge to throw himself out of the window. He watched Pierce coming from behind and going around the table so he could sit on the other chair, in front of him.

“What is this all about, Soldier?” he asked with that tender voice Winter despised because it reminded him of Steve’s own tenderness - and so he wasn’t sure anymore why he didn’t trust that man.

“I- I don’t know” he replied, stuttering.

“ _I think_ ” said Pierce like a mother not listening to her son because she had already planned her lecture, “you have gotten emotionally compromised.”

Unconsciously, Winter was already shaking his head. He knew what was coming next.

“You know we can’t allow that. Not now when we’re so close from our goal.”

“Please” he interrupted, “I’m sorry, I’ll do better but please don’t-”

Pierce’s voice became sharper than steel.

“We can’t allow that.”

And suddenly, Winter saw his future: the wiping first, then the cryo. And he’d forget about Steve, about the scent of his body and the warmth of his embrace and all those moments spent together and when he’d wake up, Steve would be so old he wouldn’t even remember him - or be too dead. He couldn’t bear the thought. Tears started streaming down his face.

“Please, I swear, please don’t do it, I swear...”

Pierce was still staring at him but didn’t speak anymore. Maybe that was his chance. Steve’s greatest default was that he was part of S.H.I.E.L.D. but not HYDRA. But that was only his asset.

“Please, let me continue my mission undercover. I have gained their truth, I can infiltrate SHIELD, do whatever you want, kill whoever you want.”

“You’d kill Wilson and Romanoff?”

All the air in his lungs got pulled away. But he didn’t blink. For Steve?

“Whenever you want, sir.”

Pierce stood up. Winter didn’t know anymore if he was still breathing. He couldn’t remember a time he had been more in distress than this moment. The world was still a hostile place for him and he couldn’t care less about the jobs they were asked from him. But in that same world of shadows and winters, there was a warm spot of light. He couldn’t lose it.

He wanted to sleep besides Steve once more.

“Well, then. I suppose you’re right. Having you as a friend of Steve Rogers might be useful in the future.” A pause. “We’ll make a slight adjustment however.”

Rumlow moved forwards to them with his carnivorous smile. Winter had already given up - both for the chair and whatever Brock had in mind for him (no way on Earth the man would pass up the opportunity to have some fun.) Rumlow made him stand up and led him to the door.

“Your boyfriend and you are way too funny to watch” he said into his ears. “But I’m dying for the day you’ll kill him.”

“Actually he won’t” Pierce interrupted and Rumlow stopped to look at him, frowning. “We’re not going to try to kill Captain America anymore.”

_What._

“It’s time for, you’d say, a target of higher rank” the white-haired man finished with obvious satisfaction.

Rumlow shrugged and took his victim away.

Winter couldn’t process what he just heard because the pain came soon enough.

 

*

 

He woke up at seven o’clock. He immediately got out of bed and stretched. He dressed up and glanced at the room. Everything was in order except from some odd objects - which meant: completely useless for the mission. The Soldier knew he got wiped out the day before and thus the details of his current mission was a bit blurry around the edges but even so, he couldn’t even fathom why he would have gathered several _stuffed animals_  on his bed?

Well, that would come back to him. Maybe. It wasn’t like it was important, anyway.

He left his room and came leaning onto the kitchen counter. The blonde man already standing there gave him a pure, beaming smile.

“Hi! Did you sleep well? I’m sorry I fell asleep before you were home yesterday.”

The Soldier smiled back.

“It’s nothing, doll. It’ll just cost you a kiss.”

They leaned to each other and kissed for a few seconds. The Soldier kept smiling afterwards, watching as the other man busied himself to make him some coffee. He couldn’t remember why his handlers had decided to punish and wipe him because, as far as he was concerned, seducing his roommate and S.H.I.E.L.D. agent in order to infiltrate the organization was a pretty nice move.

And it was working wonderfully.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! I'm sorry for the delay but you know how school can get when it's finals time (yeah ~)
> 
> Anyway, this concludes part 5 of our story, "Nat babysits the two boys and Sam helps too," but before we start part 6 (which is a bit darker tbh), there will be a bonus chapter. Now, the original plan was a quick story about sick!Winter and Sam taking care of him but Endgame happened (and it was a lot and I've already written my fix-it fic) and I got a Roommates AU based on the ending. So please tell me in the comments which one you'd like to read!


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a bonus chapter. As such, it's up to you whether you consider it being part of my canon or not. If you decide it's canon, then it's set around chapter 10 - Triggering at the Bar - but before chapter 12 - Kissing lessons. Enjoy!

“If there’s anything-”

“ _Steve._ ”

“-anything at all, you’ll call, right?”

The man wearing his stealth SHIELD suit stood in the door’s framework, thus preventing Sam to close it. The Falcon was getting mildly annoyed.

“ _I’ll call._ Now, go!”

Steve tried to glance one last time at the couch in their tiny living-room but he couldn’t see the person laying on it so he reluctantly left, with wet puppy eyes.

Sam was finally able to close the door and sighed heavily.

“Man, that guy is just too much!”

He circled the couch to face the person who only stared at him from the comfy blanket he was cuddled under.

“I mean, I get it, he cares about you, but seriously, that was just too much.”

Winter sneezed.

“I’ll make you some tea” Sam decided.

He ambled to the kitchen island, whistling. He got a mug, put the water to boil, looked - and found - the tea box and the honey pot. Winter preferred his tea with honey while Steve only wanted it to be fruity - or on the contrary bitter, strong black tea. The two of them talked so much about each other, Sam felt as if he lived with them.

When the water had boiled, he poured it into the mug and waited a few minutes for the tea to give its savor to it. Then he added the honey, mixed the whole with a spoon and came back to the couch where he handed the hot beverage to Winter.

“Here.”

Winter glared at him but managed to sit up and drink. Halfway through, however, he brutally sneezed and splashed some tea on the floor. The two of them exchanged a glance.

“I’ll clean” Sam announced.

But Winter slammed his mug on the coffee table and buried himself deeper under the blanket. His nose was red and dripping - it was pity to look at. Sam sighed and retrieved the tissue box from the table to present it to the assassin. Winter frowned but took one.

“Are you gonna talk or what?” Sam asked, amused.

For one second - and one long, another black look - he thought the answer was no.

“I. am. dying.” Winter eventually said.

Sam put down the tissue box back on the table.

“No you’re not.”

“But I am! I’m- am-”

Winter sneezed again and this time, he nearly kicked his blanket away. For a moment, he looked confused. Then he glared at Sam as if he was daring him to contradict him now.

Sam sighed.

“Winter, you are not dying. It’s just a cold, man!”

The Falcon headed for the kitchen again, this time searching for something he could use to clean up the small puddle of tea. When he came back with a rag, Winter was halfway out the couch, his metal arm supporting his weight from the ground and drinking his tea with his other hand, just above the coffee table. He finished, discarded the mug again without any more gentleness than before and went back under his blanket.

“I’m dying” he repeated.

“Okay, fine, you are” Sam replied, suddenly not wanting to have that conversation anymore. “So what now? You want me to cry over you?”

He got on his knees to clean the tea and noticed the silence that followed his sardonic question. He looked up and saw Winter avoiding eyes contact. When he spoke, his voice was tiny too.

“I thought Steve left you with me so you could fix me.”

The Falcon quickly cleaned the tea and sat up. He put his hand on Winter’s shoulder and waited for him to look at him before answering.

“There is nothing to fix. You’re just sick. That happens to a lot of people, all the time. So there’s nothing to worry about.”

The brunette breathed and a smile started to appear on his face - until he sneezed again. Sam tried to hid his own grin and got back on his feet.

“So why am I feeling like I’m dying!” Winter yelled as Sam had one again vanished from his sight.

The voice replying to him came from the kitchen where he also heard water flowing from the tap.

“Have you not been sick before?”

An eloquent silence followed. Surprised, Sam left the rag on the counter and went back to lean on the couch, crossing his arms on its edge.

“Winter?” he asked dubiously.

The brunette was frowning - and visibly trying to concentrate.

“I don’t... remember” he ended up saying. “I may have, in the past. That would seem logic. Or maybe they prevented it?” He grinned when he added - as if he was trying to sound less grim: “You have no need of an assassin who can’t leave his bed.”

“Obviously” Sam replied.

But he wasn’t smiling. There was little to nothing he knew about Winter, to be honest. He knew that he wasn’t an art student, that he wasn’t that young and, most importantly, that he wasn’t his own man. But Natasha didn’t tell him anything else besides of that and when he’d asked, she’d just told him to trust her. Trust Natasha: not that he minded but Winter was clearly suffering from PTSD and other traumas linked to his soldier life and it killed the Falcon not to be able to help him with that. Not that he wanted to risk freaking him out either.

 *

It was almost noon. Winter hadn’t stopped complaining for the whole morning but Sam had stopped caring about it. He was now cooking meal - steak and fries for him, soup for his patient.

“I’m so cold!” Winter called out, “Sam! I’m so cold!”

Sam didn’t even lift his head from the plate in which he was cutting himself some tomatoes.

“Do you need some more blankets?” he asked.

No answer. He didn’t mind. He had learned now that Winter was more expressing his current feelings than he was asking for things, really. In fact, Sam had realized, that was Winter just _expressing himself_  - something the bastards keeping him under control surely didn’t allow at all - and not expecting or asking for something in particular. Maybe he didn’t even care whether Sam listened to him or not - he was able to say whatever was on his mind that was enough for him.

Sam was reversing the tomatoes in the bowl with the rest of the salad when however the brunette answered.

“No. I don’t think so. But I’m cold.”

His voice was weak again. Today, Winter was either shouting or sounding like a feeble child; no in-between. Sam put his meal on the counter and checked Winter’s soup - five more minutes. He walked to the couch and sat down, allowing Winter to lay his feet on his laps. Sam started to gently massage them. They were cold, indeed. That wasn’t alarming at all, of course, but it probably bothered him nonetheless.

“I’m telling you. I’m dying.”

“No, you’re not.”

Sam looked up at his friend and frowned. Did he- _Was he crying?_

“I’m fucking useless, Sam.”

“Winter-”

The brunette took back his feet and curled up.

“And I can’t be useless. They’ll punish me for this.”

Sam put his hand on what he guessed was his leg - hard to tell with that blanket covering it all.

“They won’t. I promise you. I’ll stop them.”

Suddenly, Winter looked pissed. He lifted his head from the sea of blanket and pillows.

“Stop them? Are you crazy, Wilson? They’ll break you! They’ll break you and they’ll kill you! Heck! I’d still-”

He sneezed and had to reach out for a tissue. When he had blew his nose, he pointed a metal finger towards the Falcon.

“Even now, I’d still kick your ass!”

Sam laughed.

“Yeah, right!”

Winter looked offended.

“I’ll have you know that I’m the best assassin of this century!”

“And you’re dying.”

“Yes, I am! When are you gonna realize that? You gotta save me, Wilson!”

The timer ringing saved him from answering that question.

“Lunch time” he said, rising up.

As he didn’t want to bother Winter, he took his soup to him while he ate his own meal on the kitchen counter. Winter didn’t stop complaining. The soup was too hot - and then it was too cold. He wasn’t hungry and couldn’t eat a thing - until the soup was not enough for his super-assassin metabolism. Also, it was dull. Steve cooked him better meals.

 *

When lunch was over, Sam told him to take a nap and settled himself on the couch before turning the TV on but Winter didn’t go to sleep - and he immediately put his feet on his laps again. He was now half complaining about his upcoming death and half making wry comments about everyone on TV and how they were all disillusioning themselves with Capitalism’s promises.

Sam take out his phone and dialed the number he wanted to reach.

“Nat?” he asked when the call got picked up.

“Yeah, I’m listening.”

Sam glanced at Winter - he was currently rambling on the beauty of rich people beckoning medium-class people to donate to just-less-than medium-class people while the real poor people were forgotten by every side.

“Could you come to Steve’s place?”

The redhead replied to him a few seconds later. She sounded a bit out of breath.

“Not really. Why? What’s happening?”

Now Winter had stopped bickering at the TV and was looking directly at him. Sam answered without breaking eyes contact.

“Well, I’ve got an assassin on my laps who thinks his cold is gonna kill him.”

“ _Because that’s the fucking truth!_ ”

On the other end of the line, Nat laughed.

“Oh, my! Isn’t he cute!”

Before he could react, Winter snatched his phone out of his hand.

“Listen here, Natalia-”

The brunette couldn’t continue for he was taken away into an excruciating cough. He coughed for a full three minutes and neither of the two others thought about interrupting him.

“Listen” he repeated when his throat felt sore but not compressed anymore, “I’m still the deadliest assassin on this fucking planet so when I say I’m dying, it means I’m dying and you better save my ass!”

Natasha didn’t reply immediately. The sounds coming from the phone weren’t clear but regardless of what was happening, the loudly breath they still kept hearing meant she hadn’t put her phone away from her ears.

“I only hear that you’ve started to remember” she finally said - and Winter bit his lips. However, before he could reply, she added: “Anyway, I love listening to your voices boys, but I’m kinda in the middle of something. So sorry but I have to hang up!”

And she hung up.

Winter looked confusedly at the phone for a few seconds as if he was expecting the redhead to call back. As it was obviously not happening, he gave the device back to his proper owner. Sam fidgeted with it a moment before putting it away in his pocket.

“Listen, man, I’d like to talk with you about a few-”

He got interrupted by Winter’s loud and obnoxious sigh.

“What’s wrong?” the Falcon asked, frowning.

Winter gave him a jaded smile.

“You want to talk about feelings. That’s all over your face.”

Sam chuckled lightly.

“Well, you’re not wrong.”

“I hate talking about feelings.”

He studied his friend with more attention. Winter had wiped out his tears and his eyes weren’t so bulky and red anymore.

“Why’s that?”

Winter sighed again.

“ _Sam_ ” he said as if Sam should have known better, “feelings are useless. If any, they even make you less efficient.”

Sam kept staring at him. He passed his tongue over his lips. He knew he had to choose his words carefully. (But he also knew he was good at it.)

“Maybe you’re right-”

“Of course I am!”

“-so answer me: is that your mission to protect Steve?”

Winter’s brows furrowed and Sam couldn’t help but noticed he also blushed a little.

“No, it’s not” the brunette answered very slowly.

Sam’s grin widened.

“So why are you doing this if no one told you to?”

Without letting him time to answer, he added: “And when we’re working together, do you keep me as safe as you do with Steve?

The assassin was downright blushing, now.

“What do you want me to say? That I have to lo- like you as much as I like Steve so I can protect you better?”

Sam burst out laughing.

“You, liking me the way you “like” Steve? Man, that would be so embarrassing!”

He leaned towards the brunette.

“Nah, don’t worry. For now, I just want you to think about what your feelings for Steve make you do.”

Winter blushed, used his ungrateful feet to kick him in the laps and looked away. But the Falcon also distinctly heard the faintest “I’ll try.”

 *

Steve came home at four P.M. He was sweating, his suit was smudged and his hair was dirty. He immediately ran to the couch and Winter hung to his neck without thinking it twice.

“How are you doing? Feeling any better?” the blonde asked while stroking his muddy fingers alongside his friend’s jaw.

Winter shrugged casually.

“I survived.”

Sam snorted but didn’t even wast time making a comment about it.

After a quick stop at the bathroom, Steve insisted to make him coffee. Winter even got out of the couch and it was a relief to note that his cheeks were pink again and that he wasn’t sneezing and coughing as much as he did in the morning.

When Sam finally left, he walked to the door and stood there, near Steve. The flying man shook their hands and winked at him.

“See ya, drama queen!”

“Asshole” Winter replied immediately then, in a lower voice and with the face of someone who is annoyed at themself, “come back whenever you want.”

Sam’s smile was as bright as the sun.

“Oh, I will. Definitely.”

When he started climbing down the metallic stairs, Steve closed the door so their apartment wouldn’t chilled and wrapped his arms around Winter.

“So I assume you two had a good day?”

Winter didn’t answer. He was smiling at the door and not making any effort to escape Steve’s grip.

The answer to Sam’s question was quite obvious, honestly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want my final thoughts on Endgame and that shitty ending and you're not afraid of hearing French (I've made English subs tho), please go check my video on the subject: https://youtu.be/5X-hX6gytQc  
> See you next week fellas!


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part six: Those who lurk in the shadows.

The apartment was in a busy state. Well, _Steve_  was. The Soldier was just chilling against the kitchen counter, sipping his morning coffee. And enjoying the sight of his “boyfriend” running from the bathroom to the kitchen to his bedroom - the Soldier was fairly sure he ended up brushing his teeth before he ate his pancakes but who was he to judge? They might have spent too much time cuddling and talking last night and Rogers had missed his alarm. But he wouldn’t feel bad for it. At this point, his cover was perfect.

The thing was, nonetheless, today was a mission day. Something in south Manhattan, weapons dealing and stuff. The Soldier had used Steve’s phone when he had finally fallen asleep to learn more about it but it was none of his interest. Apparently a few guys were making a hell of a ton of money selling weapons from the Chitauri’s invasion. To be honest, SHIELD - with HYDRA - had had most certainly the whole battlefield cleaned up so that was definitely fake ones. But Rogers was happy. These so-called weapons dealers weren’t saints either so if he was lucky enough, besides the trip and the common adrenaline, he would maybe be able to punch someone in the face - Rogers was a pain in the ass when he hadn’t punched someone at the end of the day.

Without any doorbell rang nor even knobs on the door - or any kind of signal at all, really, their entrance door opened and the redhead swirled in. The Soldier glanced at her.

“Yo.”

He went back to his coffee - Natasha wasn’t here for him.

“Hurry up your ass, Rogers! We’re already ten minutes behind our schedule!”

A muffled sound - quickly followed by a loud bang on the floor - came from Steve’s bedroom. Soon enough after this, the man himself appeared, struggling to get his pants up and over his glorious butt.

“I’m sorry! I’m here!”

He zipped his pants and ran to where the Soldier was standing, smiling like an idiot. The Soldier raised an eyebrow.

“What?”

Rogers pouted and leaned even closer.

“Come on. Where’s my morning kiss?” he asked with his little shit’s smirk. “Or good luck kiss. Your call.”

The Soldier sighed but complied. He pulled his boyfriend and kissed him for a solid five seconds.

“There you go” he said, releasing his grip. “Go off, now.”

Steve winked at him and hurried towards the front door. He stopped on the threshold, though, frowning at Natasha who hadn’t moved.

“Nat?”

The spy was looking straight up at the Soldier. The brunette felt her gaze like a scanner or a X-Ray look. He chose to focus on his coffee, waiting for her to be gone. But the redhead kept staring for another minute. Then she finally turned on her heels.

“Let’s go Rogers.”

They both left. The Soldier let out an inaudible sigh. No wonder why they had pointed her to him as a major threat. The woman was a damn good spy. Probably even as good as he was. Also, because of the mind-wipe, he couldn’t remember the last week - which she could obviously. All the more reasons to be careful around her if he didn’t want to blow his cover.

Nevermind. Time for _his_  mission.

 

*

 

The mission was easy. Well, not for anyone but him - which was exactly why they had sent him. He was to infiltrate Fury’s personal office and hacked into his computer. Pierce had given him a code that would allow him to unlock Fury’s files. The catch was: the code would only work if the person using it was standing inside the room. Good news was, even if it was a vocal recognition, he didn’t need Fury’s voice.

Thinking back to the early 70s, he did pull up that trick more than one, though. (His memory was a mess. He couldn’t tell anymore which missions were led under the KGB’s supervision and which ones under HYDRA’s.)

Getting inside the helicarrier couldn’t have been easier. His cover granted him the - relatively - free access to it and some SHIELD agents even smiled at him as if they were in anyway close to each other. Maybe they had a beer together once. Steve loved to invite everyone at the bar after a mission. __(Focus.)__

Getting into Fury’s office, however, happened to be a little trickier. It was one of the busiest area and Fury would seldom leave his office. The Soldier lured him out with a text message supposedly from Agent Hill telling him his Cappuccino was ready but not about to come to him by itself. The assassin had guessed right; Fury left ten seconds after he had hit the “send” button, looking pissed (wasn’t it his resting face actually?) but with a hint of satisfaction. As he had planned it, the Director exited the room at the same time a brown hair scientist was passing before its door. Collision happened, there were files everywhere, Fury slammed his door but didn’t look behind him and before every one had snapped out of the accident they had stared at by sheer reflex, the Soldier was in the place.

Of course, as soon as the door closed on his back, the room’s security system kicked in. The Soldier studied it for thirty seconds. After that, he got ride of it by either deactivating it remotely or swiftly ripping it out of the walls.

Finally, he was where he needed to be.

“Open files. Code: Red Ford Lola.”

What even. But who cared honestly? The wall lighted up, showing him every files Fury could ever want to look into. Not to mention every files he would never let anyone see in their life. Those were the ones he was interested in.

Before he could start digging, however, something fell lightly on the floor.

“Hello again, James.”

Without thinking, he turned around, his two guns already up to fire. And obviously, Natasha was already showing her empty hands in a peace gesture.

“Easy there, pretty boy. I’m your friend.”

She held her sentence one second before finishing it:

“You remember that, right?”

His fingers clenched on the gun’s butt but he didn't shoot.

_Protect your cover._

“Of course I do” he replied with an offended tone.

He put away his weapons.

“So, aren’t you supposed to be with Steve?”

The Soldier wasn’t sure who exactly Natasha was working for. Fury, obviously - for some reason, she didn’t trust Pierce and wouldn’t take her orders from him - but Fury was the one to order Steve’s mission. Wasn’t she afraid she’d get punished for dumping it just like that?

“I was, yes, but fake alien weapons dealers? Not exciting.”

“So you figured it out, too.”

She put her hand on her hip and did that little cute pout - she would never fool him, she had to know that.

“Steve gonna be so disappointed.”

The pout turned into a smirk.

“He’ll need some distraction tonight, if you see what I mean.”

Before he could reply, she moved towards him and, out of reflex, he took a step back. That didn’t go unnoticed by her. Of course. Even if her tone stayed light, her eyes were suddenly as sharp as knives.

“So I wondered; why not help James with his own mission? Like I’m supposed to do too, because of the arrangement we made.”

His eyes quickly scanned the room. Had she triggered any alarm he hadn’t seen or turn off yet? Was she stalling for Fury to get back? How many knives did he have for a fight? (Enough.)

“James.”

His attention went back to her again. She wasn’t smiling anymore. She wasn’t even trying to look intimidating. In fact she was looking like... she was pained?

“What happened?”

“Dunno what you’re talking about.”

The redhead didn’t bother tilting her head as she would with someone so blatantly lying to her - they were both past beyond that kind of acts.

He huffed loudly.

“So what? You’ll tell me you never get punished? And - okay, okay, you got me on this one - I may not remember completely what our arrangement was. So let’s say we just stop doing it and go our own way? We don’t have to fight.”

Yet. Natasha was high up on Pierce’s secret killing list. Just after Fury and Captain America.

“What do you say, Nat?”

The pain that followed was so sudden and intense, he blacked out.

 

*

 

When the Soldier woke up, he found himself tied to a chair in a empty, bad smelling, poor lit room. A storage room? He doubted Natasha had had time to carry him out of the helicarrier - or the means, for what it mattered. The redhead was standing right next to him, looking down on him with an emotionless face.

“We have to talk, James.”

He wriggled on his chair to feel what he couldn’t see. And what he felt was electric handcuffs. Because regular ones couldn’t possibly hold his metal arm but electric ones could - what need in trying to be resistant enough for a metal arm if said metal arm couldn’t be moved by its possessor?

He was pissed.

“Hold on! I think I remember something.”

The woman frowned. His smirk deepened.

“I remember you slaughtering as many good men as me in a not-so-long past. So remind me again why you think you are the good person and me the bad one.”

Natasha slapped him. He laughed.

“You’d make a terrible interrogator!”

“That’s because I’m not here to interrogate you!”

She firmly seized both of his shoulders. They were inches away from each other; their breath were mixing and the Soldier could see into her eyes. She wasn’t angry. She wasn’t bored either. No.

She was _desperate_.

Desperate for what, he briefly wondered before a single tear shone at the corner of her eye.

“Please, James, please, you have to remember.”

He kept staring. Now, she was starting to hope. Natasha Romanoff, the Black Widow, the deadly spy, was willingly - and purposely - letting him see into her soul. He took a deep brief.

“I remember everything I need.”

And there went the hope.

The redhead stood up and walked around the room for a moment. The Soldier still couldn’t figure where they were. No sound coming from the outside, no movement. The door was so poorly lit he could barely see it let alone guess something out of its appearance and locks. He was losing his time.

“Okay. It’s fine. Completely fine.”

Natasha had stopped in front of him again. Her smile - her fake, conventional smile - was back.

“We knew it wasn’t going to be easy, right? I didn’t think they would- I mean, so soon. But it’s fine. We got this.”

She reached out from behind her and retrieved a gun she started to examine. The Soldier realized one second later it was his - and consequently, tried and failed to feel his other weapons. He writhed his foot in his left shoe and couldn’t even feel the mini knife. What a complete- _  
_

“Okay, Winter, now you listen to me.”

At least, she had dropped the silly name - “James” was probably the name of one of his cover and, if he were to guess, a cover from a mission they did together (because obviously, the redhead had hoped to hit the sentimental cord here).

“First, you gonna stop thinking you’re HYDRA’s asset or some other bullshit and start again letting me help you to get you out of their hands.”

As if something like that would ever happened. Did “turning good” involved “being suddenly naive?”

“Second, you’re gonna stop making out with Steve.”

“What?”

The redhead smirked - she was definitely making fun of him.

“Your heard me right. I don’t want your hands on Steve anymore. And I mean, even if it’s Steve who reach out.”

“You can’t ask that! I can’t-!”

He stopped mid-sentence and bit his lips. Steve as his boyfriend was a major part of his cover. He couldn’t simply submit to Natasha and her fucking demands just because she had him tied up on a chair!

“You can.”

She walked towards him and bent to him, her smile a kind one.

“I want to save your life, James. And I’ll do it. But in the mean time, I won’t tolerate you playing with Steve’s heart. You deserve each other but not in that twisted way.”

The Soldier raised an eyebrow.

“I don’t get it.”

Honestly, he didn’t. Why did she sound as if she actually believed in their relationship? She knew it was all a lie - or she wouldn’t have come after him after seeing them together this morning.

The redhead smiled brighter though and this time, he could count all of her teeth. There were a lot of them and he had no desire in finding out what she could tear apart with them.

“You really think you’re some kind of master of espionage and that you seduced Steve?”

He felt his cheeks turning red and burning.

“For one thing, yes, I am a master of espionage. And secondly, I did, obviously!”

The woman patted him on the head and he felt himself even more blushing.

“That’s cute. You’re in denial even with yourself. Which is maybe sad, now that I think about it.”

She stood up and stretched her back.

“Anyway, I’m gonna free you as soon as you promise you won’t keep 'seducing' Steve and also that you’ll play videogames with hi-”

“I’m not in love with Steve Rogers!”

Dammit. What a humiliation. He just couldn’t. How dare did she insinuate something like this? And her gaze, still, made him uncomfortable. As if she knew something he didn’t. Maybe she did. Maybe she had the knowledge of everything that happened those last seven months while he couldn’t - or only in a blurry way. But that didn’t mean she knew how he was feeling. He was only an asset - the best - for HYDRA to use. Nothing mattered outside of HYDRA. Nothing _could_  matter outside of HYDRA.

“So you’d hurt Steve?”

“What?”

He lifted his head to stare right into her eyes. She was serious.

“I know you’d kill me-”

_Without a thought, as soon as Pierce order me to._

“-but would you kill Steve?”

If Pierce ordered it... If it was Pierce’s desire. To protect himself, maybe he would...

“Would you make Steve bleed all over your hands? Take his last breath from him? You know he wouldn’t even get mad at you, right? I bet he’ll keep smiling until the end-”

“Shut up.”

“Just picture that. He wouldn’t even put up a fight. Easiest kill ever. Actually anything at all would do the job and he’d just stay there and smile at you while you’re murdering him just for the sake of-”

“ _Shut up!_ ”

His eyes were burning with tears. He didn’t understand.

“Please.”

His heart was racing and his guts were twisted as if he was going to receive punishment. No; worse than this. The chair would be less pain than what he was feeling at the moment.

The silence had fallen on the two of them. Natasha wasn’t moving, her breath was quiet. She was the only anchor in this room.

“Why-” he tried to ask and he had to try again because his throat was sore. “Why videogames? What it has to do with... the rest?”

Natasha sighed and gently put her hand on his left shoulder.

“Because the James I know, or the Winter, doesn’t matter - the real you I mean, fell in love with Steve when they played videogames together. Because no matter if Steve is as strong as Captain America, he just loves running into fights without ever wondering if you’ll have his back. Because he knows you will.”

That was the truth. In the two days the Soldier got to know the man after the mind wipe, that was probably the first thing he had picked up. Steve loved fights. Sometimes, one could wonder whether he liked fights better than he liked standing for literally anyone.

“Thank you, Natasha.”

The redhead smiled brightly.

“You’re welcome.”

“I was wondering if you were a better spy than me.”

The electric wave went directly from his shoulder to her brain through her hand. Natasha screamed in pain and surprise then dropped unconscious on the floor like a rag doll. Another electric shock and the handcuffs fell too. The Soldier raised up, wincing. This was not a trick he liked to pull off, to be honest. Reminded him too much of the chair actually.

The brunette searched the room. His weapons were all lying on the table near the door - that he couldn’t see because of the lack of light - and he found his phone on Natasha herself. Along with the keys to the room.

Just before locking the room behind him, he took one last glance at the woman lying motionless on the cold concrete, her fire hair catching the only light and making everything else look dull.

“But you know, at this point, I think I’m just the best.”

Once he was out of that interrogation room, it looked obvious he was still on the helicarrier. Still, he had lost too much time and Fury was back in his office meaning he had to find another diversion. Not that it wouldn’t be hard.

On his way to the Fury Office, he checked his phone. And frowned. There were two new messages in his conversation thread with Steve. Two new texts from him - or rather, Natasha.

 

Winter: Something happened today. Can’t tell you what. Just need you to stop touching me please

Winter: And please, I don’t want to talk about it.

 

Well, fuck you, Natasha.

 

*

 

Steve came home by six pm. Just by the look on his face, you’d have guessed he hadn’t had his fight. The weapons dealers had probably witness in horror as the STRIKE team fell on them from their Quinjet and its five over-trained guys. They surely surrendered very quickly while making very little opposition. But that didn’t explain for all Steve’s bad mood.

Again, fuck you Nat.

The Soldier felt trapped. Obviously, the texts were sent from his phone so he could a) say he mistyped it (unlikely, too lengthy message) or, better, b) say it was all a joke from Natasha because Steve had to know the two of them had “hung out” together since she wasn’t there for the Manhattan mission. Problem: Nat’s version. The Soldier felt - with reason - than Steve trusted Natasha more than he trusted him. So the assassin could call bullshit on the texts, they could laugh about it and even have sex later (that’s for trying to control my fucking private life, Nat) but then, tomorrow, when they’d meet the redhead at SHIELD’s HQ or the random coffee shop she had chosen? She was probably already pissed she got locked down inside this austere room. If she learned he hadn’t followed her orders, she would most definitely kill him. Or worse. So, there you go: she won.

And it was fucking awkward.

“So... Everything went okay with the mission?”

The Soldier was leaning on one side of the kitchen counter while Steve was cooking dinner on the other. The blonde shrugged casually.

“Yeah, you know. The ordinary. False alarm, nothing alien.”

The brunette was looking for his eyes but Steve was purposely avoiding him. He was cutting tomatoes and potatoes just the way the Soldier remembered he used to do it himself - as if his mission was about the accuracy of the vegetable’s cubes he was making - when he moved in with Steve, seven months ago. When, obviously, that man’s life couldn’t matter less to him.

“Hey, I was wondering...”

“Yes?”

Suddenly, Steve was staring into his eyes, his lips pressed together in a stressed yet hopeful manner. What if Natasha was right? He needed to be sure.

“Drop the salad. I want to play videogames.”

Steve’s lips stretched to a fine smile as he grabbed the onions.

“One minute. I’m almost done.”

Without thinking, the brunette reached out for his wrist but then, he actually _thought_  about it and his arm just stay resting over the kitchen counter. Stupidly. Hello again, awkwardness.

“I said now. I want to play now.”

Steve stared at him for a few seconds then shrugged.

“If you want.”

He washed his hands in the sink before heading for the T.V. The Soldier plugged in the two gamepads and settled on the couch with one, putting the other next to him. Steve switched on the T.V. and the Playstation and slid the game inside it.

They started playing without talking. Steve took the game more seriously than usually. His movements were slower and he was actually putting up real tactics in order to get the flag without being killed. The Soldier found himself glancing at him (way too) often and every time, he noticed how he felt warm inside just by looking at the man. Still, his heart clenched because something was missing. Steve’s smile was missing. Even though sometimes he would die out of the most atrocious and offensive way - offensive to __him__ , who was trying so _hard_  to snipe every robot from a ten feet radius so when you see a grenade Rogers you don’t jump on it for Stalin’s sake! - just so he could give him a smirk afterwards - his smile, his real smile, the one no one could make except him was missing. The one he gave him after they had kissed.

The Soldier realized how hard he wanted that smile back.

They played almost one hour. Then Steve’s stomach growled and the blonde literally begged him to go have dinner. They settled on both side of the counter and started eating. In the middle of it, the blonde suddenly asked:

“Is it something I did?”

The Soldier nearly choked on his potato.

“What?”

That question was in mouth a bit too often today.

Steve fidgeted in his plate with the extremity of his fork, not looking at him anymore.

“I know you said you didn’t want to talk about it but-”

He stopped there. Maybe he was hoping for the brunette to actually reply to his unfinished sentence. Unfortunately, the Soldier was too confused to even think about the correct answer so he finished:

“At least, I want to know if it’s something I did. If it’s, you know, my fault.”

This hurt. This was bloody hurting, looking at him, so miserable, surely not feeling like eating anymore because he was still hungry - he had to be, the calories he had ingested couldn’t be sufficient yet. Why was he making himself so miserable?

Couldn’t he just be pissed at him.

Please.

“I could... read to you. Like you did to me. If you want.”

This was wrong. He could feel it in every cell of his damn body.

“This is not- This wasn’t-”

Words got stuck in his throat. He wasn’t hungry anymore either. He excused himself and left their living-room slash kitchen.

When he found himself throwing up into the toilet, he realized he couldn’t have gotten a cold on this bloody helicarrier.

Then he dropped on his knees and cried for a long time.

 

Fuck you Nat.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Second date

Steve barely looked up from his eggs and bacon when Winter entered the kitchen area. He was too absorbed by the news he was reading on his phone - he had recently gotten into that habit after Tony had (casually) mentioned to him how a dick he was by being uninterested in present days. Sometimes, he would chew on the wrong side of his mouth and feel a tingling right on his left cheek which was still red but no more swollen. That was the trace of last night’s mission and more specifically, the trace of the grenade he hadn’t minded trying to avoid - because what was a grenade to Captain America? (Nothing; no more than a light headache compared to the whole sea of trouble he found himself into when his three other teammates found out about the grenade. Especially Winter.)

“Morning stupid.” the brunette said as he made his way to the coffee pot.

This time was Steve’s turn to greet him by merely a growl. He was reading the summarize of a nasty judgment involving a young Black girl raped by her professor who - obviously - got away because the girl wore a skirt too short once. Captain America was trying really hard not to jump outside right away and go fist-fighting the professor, his lawyer and the judge altogether.

With a sigh, he finished the article and shoved his phone back into his pocket before looking up for his lover. Winter had grabbed a bowl of cereals while waiting for his coffee to brew and had walked across the living-room. He was now standing next to the wall, near Steve’s bedroom, where the blonde had hung the painting he had made during his birthday party. He stood silently, staring at it and eating slowly.

Steve cleared his throat.

“I really love that painting. I mean I love how you paint. Do you plan on making more?”

For one moment, Winter didn’t reply and Steve stared at the painting too. The brunette had used the smaller canvas, no bigger than a sheet of paper really, and the colors were kind of dull. It was black lines and smudges of light blue and dirty white. Here and there there were gray and red mixed together, going out from lower layers as if Winter had tried to hide them away but they had pierced through nonetheless. It looked just like that in the distance - a painting with smudges of different colors. But if you’d look at it more closely, with more focus, the black lines turned into dark, naked trees, the blue and the white were snow covering the hills and the gray and red were nebulous silhouettes lost in that winter. Steve was sure it meant something but he wouldn’t dare ask.

His boyfriend finally turned to him and Steve suddenly was staring into an empty look. That look had been more than frequent when they had moved in together but it had vanished as the months had gone by. Yet, suddenly, here it was again and the blonde felt his heart aching not knowing why - and not willing to admit it was since the birthday party.

Winter shrugged.

“Maybe.”

He came back to the kitchen counter and propped himself on a stool, near the coffee pot so he just had to reach out to grab it.

Steve wanted to bit his lips - but better get done with it as quickly as possible.

“I’d like to ask you something.”

Winter didn’t look up.

“Go on.”

The blonde took a deep breath.

“Actually I’d like to ask you out. I mean, on a date.”

This time, the other man stared at him.

“Tonight?”

Steve felt himself blushing and he fidgeted with the rim of his already empty mug.

“Why not. Or another day. You know, whenever you want.”

“OK.”

Steve’s heart missed a beat. It was hard to tell if Winter was agreeing for real on that date - because he was definitely not over the moon about it. It had been only days since they had made the No-Touch deal and he felt like they were growing distant towards one another. A date didn’t have to be sensual or touchy at all, Steve had thought, and that way they could get close again. But did Winter want the same thing?

“I’ll take care of it.”

“What?”

The brunette huffed, mildly annoyed - as if he was stating the plain evidence.

“You took care of our last date so it’s my turn to care of this one.”

“You don’t have to-”

Steve quickly shut his mouth. Obviously dating wasn’t a each one’s turn kind of thing but Winter reacted differently than most of people. He would probably feel very bad if he didn’t planned their date. Steve gave him a smile.

“Looking forward to it, then.”

The brunette went back to his breakfast. Steve looked down at his own empty plate. After a few seconds of internal debate, he rose up and carried it into the sink with his mug and started washing it. When he grabbed the rag to dry them, he spoke again, his back on Winter.

“By the way, there’s something else I want to do today and I was wondering if - no, actually, I’d really appreciate if you’d come.”

He glanced at his friend and his friend glanced back at him.

“Then I’ll come.”

He swallowed and added:

“What are we gonna do?”

Steve’s features went soft at the idea of it.

“Visit an old friend.”

 

*

 

There were few places Steve didn’t like to go. Cemeteries and memorial monuments for once. It was as if these places were a constant reminder of how out of his own place he was. Because he was supposed to be there. His name was supposed to be written along the ones of the courageous soldiers who had died during the Second World War. No - if it hadn’t been for Erskine, for that man so pure and so wise, his name should have been in a remote cemetery, unknown to everyone, next to his mother’s. Which led to the second kind of places he hated finding himself in: hospitals. These dashing white walls felt like a prison in disguise, a death sentence barely uttered. Pneumonia or asthma; what was the difference? Steve had spent so many years thinking these white walls would be the last thing he’d see in his life, the day his skinny and weak body would finally give up on him.

God, he hated that place.

Suddenly, someone brushed his shoulder against his and he glanced at Winter. The brunette offered him a peaceful smile and that was enough for him to gather the courage he needed to enter room 206.

“Hello” he said as he crossed the threshold.

As soon as he saw her, his heart bumped in his chest and he forgot all of his dark thoughts he was having the second before. He walked swiftly to the bed, put the flowers on the bedside table and laid a big smoothy kiss on Peggy’s cheek.

“My, Rogers, haven’t we seen each other last week?” Peggy said, chuckling.

Steve smiled brightly.

“So what? Do I need to wait seventy years to give my best girl another kiss?”

They both laughed lightly then Steve turned to Winter - who had remained shyly on the threshold - and gestured for him to step forward.

“Peg,” he said, “I’d like to introduce you someone really special to me-”

He hadn’t finished his sentence when Peggy cried.

“Barnes!”

She struggled to lift her white haired head and reached out with her wrinkled pink hand. Winter froze and stared at her with a frightened look.

“Bucky!” Peggy insisted, “oh my god, it’s really you!”

Tears started to shine in the corners of her eyes.

“Steve missed you so much, you know. So much. And I wanted-”

She coughed and Steve took the opportunity to take her hand.

“Peg, it’s not- It’s not him. Bucky is dead.”

The blonde spared a glance at his boyfriend. Of course he had noticed it before - since he had first seen him to be honest - but it hurt even more now because Peggy was here and was “recognizing” him too and, well, it was damn painful thinking at another time, when the three of them were together - and happy to be. But that time was over for Bucky, had passed for Peggy and wasn’t for him to demand anymore.

His boyfriend might look like his old best friend but this dear friend was dead and he wasn’t supposed to replace him. Winter didn’t deserve that.

“Peg,” he said, “let me present you Winter. He’s my, well, we’re together.”

He blushed. He hadn’t also thought about that maybe Peggy didn’t like the men like him. She was from the forties after all - even him had trouble admitting he could have these sorts of feelings towards another fellow.

“I know I still owe you a dance. But I- Can you not be mad at me?”

Peggy’s attention went back to him and she smiled softly. He took a seat to get closer to her and she cupped his face gently.

“Steve, the first time I met you, I thought you were just another man willing to go to war for the sake of being a man going to war. By the time I realized I was wrong, you had already threw yourself in the enemy’s camp just to rescue your friend. Seeing the two of you together... I wanted so hard to be able to measure up.”

Steve took her hand in both of his and applied ghost kisses to it.

“What are you talking about?” he said gently, “you always were the one I’d looked up to, Peg. You were the one to inspire me and to make me realize the serum wasn’t enough to make me the best version of myself.”

The conversation drifted away on their shared memories from the war and a lot more about Steve’s current adaptation to the modern world until Peggy choked and had trouble breathing for some dreadful seconds. When she opened her eyes again, Steve knew he had lost her.

“You’re here! You’re here!” she exclaimed. “Howard will be so happy! He wouldn’t quit looking for you but I told him- But you’re here! Oh, he’ll be so happy, really!”

The blonde smiled as much as he could and laid a kiss on her forehead.

“I’m sure he will be. But you must be tired, let’s talk another time, OK?”

He left the room and waited until the door was closed to give in to his sorrow. Seeing Peggy, the woman he had loved so dearly, the woman who had impressed him all along by her strength - both physical and mental -, was hard. On one hand, he had been visiting her since the beginning of the year and seldom would she forget he was alive. On the other hand, it seemed like the time was even more messed up in her mind. Sometimes, she would try comfort him about Bucky, other times it was as if they were in the seventies and she was trying to recruit him into this new agency she had created with Howard, Jarvis and her husband Daniel that she had called SHIELD - because of him. Today was probably one of these times.

The docs kept telling him his visits did a lot of good to her but he doubted that. (However, he’d never stop seeing her. He couldn’t. Not when she was the last person to know him, the real him.)

 

*

 

He found Winter in the entry hall, chewing on a snack and fidgeting with the wrapper. The blonde frowned when he realized he had no idea at which point his friend had left the room.

“Hey” he said softly when he was close enough.

He hadn’t meant for Winter to feel as if he had no reason to be there. The truth was, Steve honestly wanted to present Winter to Peggy. He honestly wanted them to become friends. Because he felt as if he shouldn’t cut his past out from his present completely.

“You’re done?” Winter asked.

“Yeah, she, well, you know sometimes she doesn’t know anymore where she is or when. It’s... hard.”

Winter nodded. He rose and walked to the bin to throw his paper. They left the hospital and headed for the subway in silence. Steve was wondering how to take on the subject but Winter did it first.

“You’re in love with her” he said - and it was a statement.

Steve felt his cheeks burning.

“I’m not! I mean, I __was__. But it was a really long time ago. She’s the dearest person to me but, you know, after you, obviously.”

Winter looked at him, cocking one eyebrow.

“She’s old.”

There was the hint of a smile on his face meaning he was teasing him.

“She wasn’t when we first met. But we were never meant to be obviously.”

“Obviously.”

They walked for a few more minutes then Steve couldn’t hold it anymore and he just embraced Winter, wrapping his buffy arms around his chest. Winter chocked a laugh and tried to get away but the more he tried, the more Steve held onto him.

“Come on, don’t be jealous. You know you’re the only one I’m madly in love with.”

“I’m not jealous! I don’t even care! Relish me Rogers! No touch, no touch!” he finished in a mildly distressed tone.

Steve finally let him go.

“Yeah, sorry.”

Winter looked offended but later, on the tube, there was definitely not a sufficient crowd to justify him standing so close and Steve breathed gladly in his brown hair.

 

*

 

The date was due for the night. They spent the rest of the afternoon in their apartment, on their computers. Steve was writing his report for last night’s mission - which Winter was supposed to do, too, but the brunette most certainly had it finished already - and it was boring the hell out of him. Sometimes, though, Winter would interrupt him and ask him questions like “what do you think of this movie director?” or “which time do you want to be home?” or “do you like seafood?” and it was adorable.

When eventually Winter told him to get ready, Steve had no idea what they were going to do or where they were going to but he had no doubt the night would be amazing.

To be fair, he had his first clue when he got out of the bathroom and found Winter waiting in the living-room. He was wearing a tuxedo, he was clean-shaven and had gelled his hair back in a man bun _and he was wearing a tuxedo_. When he spotted Steve’s stare, he looked away, blushing. And Steve blushed too because damn, Winter was hot as hell and he was _not_  expecting it. (Meanwhile, he had only put on a pair of jeans and a soft purple jumper.)

They left their apartment and Winter locked the door while Steve breathed in the cool air of the night. They climbed down the stairs leading to their street but then Winter went left.

“Where are you going?” asked Steve, “the sub is over there,” he added, pointing to their right.

Winter frowned.

“Yeah, but I figured it’s less romantic if we take the sub rather than if we walk. Besides, I’ve checked the weather for the night and it’ll remain stable so you won’t get cold.”

Steve chuckled to hide his blush. He didn’t mention that he couldn’t get cold - except, let’s say, if he were to dive into the Arctic Ocean without a proper diving suit - because of how hot his metabolism ran. Instead, he asked:

“You sure we won’t be late?”

Winter’s frown deepened as if he was being offended by the question but he checked the time on his phone.

“Normally no. At our normal walk speed, it’ll take us twelve minutes.”

Steve shut up. Winter had apparently planned it all. He had further confirmation of that when they crossed a nice bridge - a 19th century metal green bridge that looked like it was suspended between a deep blue abyss and two cliffs of brick red buildings - and before he could even mark a stop, Winter had grabbed him by the elbow, forcing him to move on.

“Not now. We’ll have to cross that bridge again so you’ll stop at that moment. Believe me, the sight isn’t at its prettiest right now.”

The first part of their date was a restaurant. It was a little Japanese restaurant, stuck between a biggest, fanciest one and a well-known Italian ice-cream maker. Anyone walking around here would have easily missed it. The interior was no bigger than the exterior had it to be expected but it wasn’t crowded, it was well-lit and the smell coming from the kitchen was worth the trouble in itself. They settled in a corner, Winter with his back against the wall and Steve with his back on the rest of the room. An old man, Mr. Asaki, the manager himself, came to them and put down a carafe of sake before even handing them the menu. As Steve opened his to make his choice, he realized Winter hadn’t even touched his own. He frowned.

“Is everything alright? Or have you just made your choice already?”

The brunette sighed with mild annoyance.

“Of course I did.”

He let a second pass before he added:

“Actually, I also made yours. If you think that’ll be more convenient for you.”

Some part of Steve got pissed because he could make his own choice thank you very much but truth be told, the rest of him was equally delighted and curious. He knew Winter didn’t just pick things on the menu; he must have thought about it to and fro and the blonde wanted to know if he had spotted his preferences. So he accepted and Winter told him the choice he had made for him. Everything was perfect - obviously - except for one thing.

“Why not that skewer with seaweeds thing? I’ve never tried them and I think I’d like to!”

“I know you do,” the brunette replied, his face serious, “but I’m fairly certain you’ll get bored of them real quick too. That’s why I’m ordering them for myself. That way, you could try them and leave the rest to me.”

Steve was more and more impressed. Not to mention that Winter had indeed spotted his food preferences just right, he also knew about Steve’s secret habit of tasting everything and getting ‘bored’ of them - in the sense that seaweeds was definitely not caloric enough for him so he’d probably find the taste amusing but then wish for something more consistent.

Mr. Asaki came back and expressed his surprise as they haven’t touched the sake yet. Winter bit his lips feeling ashamed and ordered their food rapidly. Steve got worried for a second but Winter dismissed his internal agitation and started talking lightly. He talked through the entire meal, to be honest. He told Steve about his days - he was more precise when it was about a SHIELD related mission than a regular university day but that was probably because he didn’t want to annoy him with petty details and Steve was more than content just listening to how he liked to paint (again, he never used the word itself, but was else would he be talking about?). He made clever jokes. He spoke about the novel Sam had recommended him with deep thoughts on it. Shortly put, he was funny, charming and the most lovable companion for Steve. Captain America didn’t have the chance to talk much but he was way too focused on Winter’s soft smile to even mind.

After dinner, they went to the theater. So far, the date was being a huge cliché date but Steve had never even gotten that kind once and he thought it was actually pretty funny.

Again, Winter had already picked the movie. He asked Steve about it, however and his face made it clear that, while he was perfectly confident in his choosing skills, he didn’t want to take any risk either. But again, Steve didn’t feel the need to question his choice. Winter was literally leading him and he would lie if he said he didn’t like it.

They saw an old movie - the theater was more about offering classic and foreign movies than blockbusters - about black slavery. The story focused on the point of view of the little white girl. Despite its age, it was nice.

However, Steve couldn’t completely concentrate because of how close Winter was to him. And not exactly restful. After maybe the first third of the movie, the blonde tried to casually put his arm around Winter’s shoulder and the latter immediately got even closer and rested his head on the crook of his neck. For the rest of the movie, the feeling of incomprehension and growing injustice the movie was delivering to the spectators mixed with Steve’s own confuse feelings. This was exactly what he would never have been able (let alone allowed) to do with Bucky, back in the days. Thinking back to Peggy, he knew he was afraid to tell her about his boyfriend because he was afraid himself since the beginning, since he had started having those strange feelings towards men too. But now, he had woken up seventy years later and enough battles had been won in the meantime for him to have this instant. So maybe he enjoyed being this close with Winter more than he enjoyed the movie itself.

When they left the theater, Steve felt a bit hot and dry. He spotted an ice cream truck and immediately pointed at it.

“What about I buy us some ice creams?” he offered cheerfully.

Winter looked distressed at once - the same way he had been in the restaurant when Mr. Asaki had noted that they hadn’t opened the bottle of sake yet.

“We can’t! You said you wanted to be home by ten! And we have to stop on the bridge - oh Stalin’s boots, we’ll be late for that, too... We don’t have the time!”

Finally, it clicked in Steve’s mind. The blonde closed the distance between the two of them and gently took Winter’s hands in his. He was mentally blaming himself for not having noticed it earlier.

“It’s okay, Winter. We’re not on a mission. It’s a date. Meaning the only thing we have to do is nothing at all. There is nothing we have to do or a time schedule to follow closely. It’s our moment, we’re the only ones to decide what we do next.”

Winter didn’t look any less desperate.

“But then it won’t be perfect! _I_  won’t be perfect! I planned it all so hard for it - for me - to be perfect for you. I didn’t want to disappoint you.”

His hands were shaking. Steve grabbed them more firmly and stared into his eyes.

“You never disappointed me. No, actually, that shouldn’t even be one of your concern.”

The brunette raised his wet eyes.

“What should be?”

“Well...”

The blonde surprised even himself when he fell on Winter’s lips as if that was the easiest thing to do in the world - and maybe kissing his lover ought to be. It was a simple pressure on his red lips but it felt like bliss until-

“Oh shit!” Steve stumbled back. “Shit, shit, you don’t want- Fuck, I’m so sorry!”

Winter looked away, embarrassed. He shoved his hands in his pant’s pocket - the left one was too big for these dumb little pockets of this too fancy pants he had borrowed from Sam - and huffed loudly. He finally looked back at Steve but showed no sign of anger.

“OK for the ice cream. But you have to let me buy them. I’m still in charge of the date.”

So Steve chose vanilla and Winter melon flavor and they started to walk back home, holding hands. They stopped on the bridge and they stayed there longer than Winter had originally planned for them to - but only because he was the one to insist.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Viva Peggy!


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'Briefing with Fury'

The curtains were drawn, allowing the clear light of the end of may to enter the room and make a large bright circle on Peggy’s white sheets while warming up her hand a little. Steve had the other into his own and with his thumb, he was drawing soft circles on her palm. They had talked for a bit then a change in the light, a bird song had then them fall quiet. It was a comfortable silence though.

Peggy shifted suddenly and Steve’s eyes flied back to her.

“Steve.”

“Yes, Peg?”

The blonde wouldn’t let go of his friend’s hand. Today was a good day and Steve would be mad at himself if he didn’t enjoy it as much as he could. The doctors had just told him Peggy had had an heart attack just the day before and he was feeling again as if he was about to loose her soon - and he couldn’t bear the thought. Not now, not that fast.

“Did you come alone? Where is that lovely young man of yours?”

Steve blushed slightly. Not only did Peggy remember Winter - and that it wasn’t Bucky - but she also had started - and quite quickly to be honest, to tease him the same way Natasha teased him all the past year about the girls he should try dating.

“Do you take him to dance?” she’d ask with that adorable smile of hers, “I hope you’ve learned how to dance, too, and you’re not embarrassing yourself, Rogers.”

Steve’s blush deepened and he shook his head as a way of trying to cool it down.

“No, I hadn’t yet. But I don’t know if I should: me walking on somebody’s feet does not equal the same result as before. We did go on a date, though. It was nice.”

Peggy’s smile softened even more. Steve didn’t know if he would have spoken so openly about his feelings before - probably not, especially not when they were about a guy. But in this new century, with Peggy having led a happy, fulfilling life, he felt like he could tell her everything. After all, she had the experience he lacked while she still knew him almost better than he knew himself.

“I’m happy for you. You two seem to get along so well. Do you know what he’s doing right now? I would have liked to see him again...”

She trailed off mindlessly while looking outside the windows, at the clear day embracing all the dull buildings - but Steve darkened. The thing was, Winter didn’t come because Steve didn’t ask him to and the other thing was, Steve didn’t ask him to because he was too focused on feeling guilty about himself.

 

When Steve had awoken this morning, Winter was already up and reading on the couch, in the living room. That kind of situation would happen when Captain America was too exhausted to go running in the pale light of a sun rising and instead slept until nine. Winter was awake since probably eight and thus there was no coffee and the bathroom was free because it had already been used.

Steve ate and took his shower then went back into the living-room while finishing putting on a shirt. He leaned onto the couch and stopped himself just before his lips touched his boyfriend’s cheeks. Truth be told, they hadn’t quite settled that matter - because they did kiss on their last date - but what really stopped Steve was more the look on the brunette’s face than the actual fear of breaking the No-Touch deal.

“What are you reading?” he asked, frowning.

Winter didn’t turn nor close his book but he let out a huge sigh that rose his entire body. He stretched his legs and crossed them the other way round.

“Something.”

Steve didn’t move. He knew Winter didn’t talk easily if the situation bore the slightest emotional link to him as much as Winter knew Steve’s tactic against that was to shut up (the exact contrary of what he first tried) and wait. And eventually, Winter would surrender because Steve also knew he had made it into the really small list of the few people Winter wanted to share his feelings with (as far as he knew, Natasha was the other one).

“History. I mean, someone’s bio. Captain America’s.”

Steve couldn’t help but chuckle in bewilderment.

“You’re reading a Captain America’s bio? In Russian?”

This time, Winter turned to face him. He was wearing that ‘annoyed at your shit’ face but there was something else Steve had felt since the beginning.

“Well, duh. I’ll never read the bio of such a patriotic icon in their own language. It wouldn’t be objective at all.”

Steve closed his mouth. Maybe Winter had a point, there. He leaned even more and let his fingers play with the brunette’s curls.

“Okay. So what’s that Russian bio sayin’?”

The assassin sat up brutally, putting his feet firmly on the ground such as to cue Steve to come sit next to him on the couch. Steve didn’t hesitate and just spanned the couch’s back. He had gotten it right - as soon as he sat, Winter turned to him and started talking.

“Look, I’ve got something to tell. But don’t freak out okay? I’m- I’m probably a bit older than you think. And I, er, kinda fought in wars already.”

He eyed Steve but the blonde just nodded, giving him his full attention. For some reason, it warmed his heart. ‘Probably’ was not the right word and ‘a bit older’ was definitely underrated. But it wasn’t his fault if he had backed down at the last second - not totally. He wanted to tell Steve about how he felt but there was still no need to tell him the complete truth about himself. Even Sam had agreed with Nat that it wasn’t a good idea.

He put his errands locks back behind his ears, trying not to get upset when his metal fingers got tangled in his hair - as often as this little accident could happen it was still a important matter of anxiety to him.

“What I’m trying to say is-” Just get on with it, _Soldat_. “I feel like Captain America had killed my best friend.”

Steve’s face lost all colors immediately.

“What” he barely mouthed and Winter looked away.

His words were coming out of his mouth more quickly - more messily too.

“I don’t know, I just feel it. You know I can’t remember everything. You know Sam says it’s PTSD or whatever. So I just feel it. But I told you about my best friend, remember? The one who was also named Steve. Well, I mean, everytime I think about the last time I saw him, it’s just... It’s not memories, really it’s just a feeling, it’s-”

“That’s okay. I believe you.”

Winter flinched when Steve put his hand on his shoulder. He got forced to look at him again - and again, there was no judgement. No suspicion or anger. Just kindness and honesty. Winter didn’t realize he had tears to shed until they started streaming down his face at the sight.

“It’s just the feeling of war and Captain America. Steve, I don’t know how but I’m sure Captain America is responsible for my best friend’s death.”

Winter watched as the blonde bit his lips and closed his eyes for a second. Then he reopened them and opened his arms altogether in an inviting gesture. Winter seemed to dwell on it but eventually, he just let go and reveled in Steve’s embrace. It was good. It felt safe.

 

“Steve?”

The blonde man lifted his eyes and encountered a soft frown.

“Are you okay?” asked Peggy. “You seem away.”

He shook his head to dismiss all these bad thoughts. Soldier losses had always been a thing, a thing Steve had tried not to think about since he had started wielding his famous shield. Captain America would always try to save everyone’s life and put his own in danger to do so - and as many times as needed. But against guns? Mines? Loss was just part of the game. In the end, he had came to accept it. But there he was and his lover’s best friend had been killed in service while Steve was supposed to be in charge and Steve couldn’t remember a soldier named like him. Too many soldiers. Too many wars. Too many deaths.

“No, it’s nothing, don’t worry Peg.”

“Steve, I need to tell you something.”

He sat up and hold onto Peggy’s hand stronger than before.

“I’m listening.”

The old woman took a sharp breath. Steve immediately reached out for the glass of water near him, on the bedside table and helped her drink. She smiled gratefully then she said:

“It’s about SHIELD.”

Steve frowned. Was she loosing her mind again? It didn’t look so, though.

“To be honest, I don’t know how I can say this. But you know I’m here because SHIELD put me here, right?”

“It’s for your own good-”

She shook her head before he could finish.

“That’s the point. When I found myself here, I was still very capable. I wasn’t going crazy, yet.”

“You’re not going crazy, Peg. You just need some rest.”

The proud founder of SHIELD used her free hand to whip his own. It was a gentle punishment but her face was serious - and Steve got worried.

“Don’t put up that pretty lie Roger.”

“Then, what are you trying to tell me Peg?”

Her eyes went from the windows to the door, across his shoulder. She laid down on her huge pillow but held on Steve’s hands as much as he did.

“Honestly, I don’t know. All I’m saying is, I was yet to be sick when I entered that hospital. And I’m here because SHIELD put me here. So, what I think I want to say is... be careful, all right? You’ll do that for me?”

Steve put a kiss on her forehead.

“I promise.”

 

*

 

When Natasha knocked on the door, Winter was three quarters down into his book. It was a very interesting book to say the least; not even remotely interested in trivial details. Captain America’s previous life - or civil life - was never addressed directly. All they said about it was his weight and height before the injection of the super-serum. And that, obviously, because the US Army just grabbed the most miserable, scrawniest guy on the streets for their experimentation. Why wouldn’t have they? It was all about giving a second birth to the American Dream, wasn’t it, Winter thought wryly as he stood and left the book there.

“Coming!”

He opened the door and had barely time to step back for the redhead spy to swirl into the apartment. She went directly to the fridge, retrieved a beer and was already back outside.

“Are you coming or what?” she said while opening the bottle with her... bare nails? (Better not wondering about why she could do that without breaking them.)

Winter repressed an annoyed sigh that would have just satisfied her and instead, he asked:

“Do I need to take my stuff?”

She looked him top from bottom - his jumper, his jeans and his Converse - before shrugging.

“We’re not going on mission, Barnes. No need to get your emo suit on.”

“It’s not- No, nevermind.”

He locked the door and wasn’t remotely surprised when Natasha started to climb the building with one hand - the other one still holding her beer - up to the roof where she had very obviously and very illegally parked a Quinjet. As she turned off the camouflage probably because she didn’t want him to miss a step, she turned to him and raised her delicate eyebrow.

“Steve told me to take you but what about him? Do we have to wait for him or pick him up on the way?”

Winter shook his head.

“No, he’ll be fine.”

“Where is he anyway?”

The brunette shrugged casually.

“Making out with the true love of his life.”

Natasha closed the bridge and headed for the cockpit.

“Cheating on you? Already? You’ll have to remind me to whip his ass.”

She sat on the pilot seat and he took the copilot one. The redhead finished her beer and threw it skillfully in the bin on the back of the plane. She then grabbed the controls and had the Quinjet took fly.

“Next stop: SHIELD’s HQ!” she announced cheerfully like some kind of hostess.

They flied for a few minutes in silent. Winter was shifting in his seat nervously, however. He didn’t see how he could start the conversation despite knowing he had little time to do it - soon they’d be at HQ and not alone anymore and though the plane was more than definitely bugged from the cockpit to the bathroom, it was the best moment to talk about that kind of subject.

Stalin’s boots and moustache! Was this day difficult!

“Why did you never tell me I fought alongside Captain America?”

Natasha turned to him briefly. She didn’t look remotely surprised - if any, she looked as if she had been waiting for that question to come up. Then she focused back on the plane’s trajectory. Winter felt a bit of anger in front of her silence.

“Because I did it, right? I was still American at that time and I fought in WWII, I know it so by all means, I fought on his side.”

Once more, the silence. She wouldn’t even look at him now. He got irritated and nearly yelled.

“I saw the list, Nat! The... The - how did they call themselves again? The Howling Commandos. Such a bullshit name! Like he just went and recruited people in his team to go to parties. No, but listen! I saw my name! My old name, the one you keep using, it was on that list! Nat!”

Natasha seized the controls brutally and the plane had a little leap. Her eyes flared at him.

“All right, yes, you did! You fought alongside Captain America during the Second War. So. What!” she spurted aggressively.

Winter stared at her. Suddenly, he didn’t know what to reply anymore. He realized that some part of him had wanted to believe he was mistaking. That Nat would deny it. But it was the truth, apparently. Once, Captain America was his ally. Once, he was watching his back. The Winter Soldier watched Captain America’s back.

“So what? Nat! _I hate him!_ I despise this man so much! How could I-? How could past me have ever wanted to be around him, let alone fight in a war with him?”

He sighed and let his head fall backwards.

“You told me to remember my past but I just don’t understand it” he finished in a lower voice.

Natasha glanced at him. She bit her lips. Neither of them talked for the rest of the trip. When Winter was about to leave the Quinjet, however, she finally called him.

“What?” he asked.

She walked to him and gently grabbed his hand - the right one.

“James, there are things I should tell you but I keep thinking it would actually make things worse. Still, believe me when I tell you I’ll get you out of this and you’ll understand everything.”

“Like why I fought with Captain America?”

“Like why you fought with Captain America.”

“He killed my best friend, Nat.”

The redhead froze. It was subtle and didn’t last long - but the Widow froze out of surprise and Winter knew she wasn’t aware of that fact.

“I’ve been remembering a lot of what happened before, recently. And I mean, before even WWII. It’s still very blurry but I’m sure of one thing: I had only one friend and he got killed in the war. Because of Captain America.”

The brunette took his hand back and stepped outside the Quinjet without Natasha trying to hold him back.

“So you know, maybe there are things you should tell me actually.”

The man then entered the building he visited at least twice the week, be it as the ally or the foe.

 

*

 

It looked like a first day of school. Nicholas J. Fury stood before them, staring at them with his remaining valid eye, silent and still as a stone. Winter didn’t care really much and observed the others, too. Natasha appeared relaxed and as blasé as he was but he knew it was only a facade; she’d be able to repeat every word at the end of the briefing. Sam looked very focused, like the new kid who wanted to please the teacher. He was nervous - it read on his whole body. Steve was anxious too but as he was more like the hyperactive kid, he was probably going to remember only the stuff that mattered to him - ie, who Fury wanted him to punch. And finally, there was a fifth guest to that briefing - a young agent, a blonde woman in white suit with her hair tied back in a ponytail, her face as serious as Wilson’s - but anywhere near as nervous. Winter didn’t know who she was but he hated her at first sight.

‘Widow.’

He taped with his fingertips on the table three times before Natasha noticed him. Fury had already started talking - but he was merely summarizing their recent missions.

‘What.’

The redhead replied to him using the same Morse code. Her eyes went back on Fury but the way her hand rested on the table meant she was ‘listening.’ Winter taped his question.

‘Who’s blonde woman?’

He saw his friend quickly smirk and if he hadn’t been in the middle of a briefing with Nicholas Fucking J. Fury, he might have indulged himself with a frown.

‘S-H-A-R-O-N-C-A-R-T-E-R aka Agent 13.’

‘Why she looking at Steve like that?’

This time, they met eyes. It wasn’t even subtle, really. By her posture, Winter could tell beyond doubt how skilled she was. If any, her mere presence here was proof she was no simple agent - in fact, according to Fury’s summary, she was also on that weapons illegal trade from A.I.M. and had done quite the job to follow them. She had determined that they were only working under purchase order; the weapon were neither their ideas nor their initiative. Someone was deliberately using them to manufacture SHIELD weapons. However, as skilled as she was, as attentive to Fury’s speech, she couldn’t help herself leering at Steve. And Steve didn’t even seem to notice. This was rubbing on Winter’s nerves pretty hard - and fast.

“Am I interrupting you?”

The SHIELD’s director was looking at the both of them. Winter thought he should probably feel bad about himself but actually, he felt reassured. Fury was still real much into the game of spy stuff - which meant he could be of some use when the time would come to take Steve out of here.

“Sir” Nat started, “with all due respect, we know all of this. We read the reports.”

“Oh I’m sorry, Agent Romanoff, am I bothering you now?”

The two of them stared at each other and Winter watched the other three persons in the room tensing up. Steve was feeling bad for Nat while Sam and that Sharon girl were already bracing for impact. But eventually, Fury sighed.

“Alright. Here me out, kids.”

He handed them files, sliding them across the table. He let them consult them for a short moment before speaking again.

Natasha got assigned on a mission so secret no details were going to be shared during that briefing. Steve, along with Sam and Winter, was meant to track down and dismantle every AIM factory. If they were able to, also determine where and how did AIM got hand on the plans of the weapons and stopping that from happening again. As for Sharon, she got to go after Lukin. The man knew too much. Not that he was lying about buying weapons for his bodyguards - that was so obvious, Fury didn’t even care to mention it - but he had apparently deep insight on SHIELD: it had appeared that his AIM’s crate was ordered through SHIELD. (Question; who would have enough clearance to allow that to happen?)

“You’ve got your orders. Now go” Fury finally said.

He looked as tired as a father of five undisciplined children.

They left the briefing room for the less-clear and wide corridor. Natasha was now grinning all she wanted. Winter was glaring at the Sharon girl - now she was trying to talk to Steve and her whole attitude reminded of- of- He didn’t have the word right now, but ‘vampire’ was sure close enough.

“You’re jealous.”

“What?”

The assassin temporarily turned his irritation towards the redhead. She laughed at his frowned eyebrows.

“This is too much! You’re really jealous!”

The way she was saying this made him want to punch her in her pretty face but he calmed down and instead, pondered:

“What’s jealous? And it is useful in protecting Steve?”

Useless emotions were useless.

Nat’s grin wasn’t vanishing. (That was weird because usually, she’d talk more seriously about feelings.)

“Oh, I don’t know. I mean, it _can be_ , depending on what it makes you want to do.”

Winter looked at her then at Agent 13. She was too close to Rogers. Unacceptable, his mind screamed. He left Natasha’s side and rushed to the girl and Steve. He grabbed Steve by the arm, made sure to make eye contact with Sharon and pressed his mouth against Steve’s. It wasn’t even a proper kiss - it didn’t even feel like a kiss should - but he meant it to be hard and lasting. Finally, he broke off, leaving Steve to catch his breath.

“Wow, Winter! What’s that for...?”

The Sharon girl looked upset. That felt good inside of him. He tightened his grip on his lover and turned on his heels.

“Come on Rogers. I’m tired, I want to go home.”

They left so quickly Steve’s goodbye got barely heard. Sharon’s frown deepened.

“What even happened?”

Natasha - who had joined them - didn’t even had time to answer; Sam put his arm around her shoulders and sighed dramatically.

“Winter is a very jealous man.”

“But don’t worry, you’ll get used to it” Nat chimed in joyfully.

“I mean” Sam said again, giving back a mischievous grin to the redhead, “it’s more like _he_ ’ll get used to you. Meanwhile, you wouldn’t want to come too close to Steve.”

As he finished his sentence, a door next to them opened and a messy-looking man emerged. He was wearing only a shirt and readjusting his bow on his back. When he spotted them, he froze - like a man who don’t know anymore who he had already greeted today. Nat’s face lighted up.

“Clint! How’s your day? Did you catch your thief already?”

The froze turned into annoyance and the archer glared at her. Deciding that she wasn’t worth it and neither of her friends were because, __obviously__ , they were her friends - he started walking away.

“Real funny, Tasha.”

When he was out of sight, Sam turned to the redhead.

“Thief? What were you talking about?”

The woman merely shrugged.

“He was on duty when something got stolen.”

“Something?” asked Sharon.

“Yeah, a radio waves based, molecular... A thing.” Her face darkened and her voice became nothing more than a whisper. “Come to thing of it, it’s already been a while ago and we hadn’t heard from-” She stopped again and then smiled brightly, tossing her arm around Sharon’s neck so the blonde got trapped between the two of them.

“Right! As you’re joining our team, we have to go for pizzas! Celebration time!”

The spy looked vaguely unsure. She was probably regretting not being alone on this mission anymore, Sam thought. Well, he corrected himself, not probably. Definitely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you guys miss me? :D Fun fact! This chapter was 3/4 down by the middle of June but I couldn't muster up the motivation to finish it until yesterday. So yay to my lazy ass!
> 
> (And let's all welcome Sharon who's finally getting to be a recurrent character!)


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'Painting in red and memories'

_Barnes: Hi_

_Barnes: Started to read the journals found in my drawer_

_Natasha R: hey James! What’s up?_

_Natasha R: That’s great! How do you feel?_

_Barnes: They’re useless. No intel._

_Natasha R: What do you call useless?_

_Barnes: There is a 3-pages entry about a visit in a museum with Steve_

_Barnes: Museum was about dinosaurs so why did I go there? There is nothing I could use in my job. Thus, useless._

_Natasha R: Keep reading._

_Natasha R: You’re adorable btw [kissing emoji]_

_Barnes: What do you mean??_

 

His phone buzzed right into his hands. If he weren’t one (that was humility talking) of the deadliest assassins in the world, he would have surely jumped because he was waiting for Nat’s answer and wasn’t expecting anybody else to text him. Maybe it was Sam, though? (Come to think of it, Sam would understand him and perhaps even tell him why the redhead thought he was ‘adorable’.)

 

_Unknown number: It’s too sunny outside._

 

Something clenched both in his chest and in his mind. In his chest because his whole body tensed up in this instant, his back stiffed and all his senses seemed to start over-analyzing his environment.

And his mind because the call was strong.

He got up from his bed and only looked for a mere second at the diaries sprung open on the sheets - one was open at a pretty good drawing of a carnival’s stall. He went to his door and unlocked it cautiously. Steve was settled in the couch, watching a football game and biting over his thumb. He didn’t even look at him when he left, the man not bothering to give his friend a reason or telling him an approximate time of return.

Because just like that, James B. Barnes, aka the Winter Soldier, was off to kill good people.

 

Natasha had ordered him to send her a text as soon as he would be given a mission. That way, she would ‘accidentally’ show up and though he would always come out as having ‘defeated’ her, somehow, the mission would not be as successful as Hydra would have wanted it to be. However, it would never be the Winter Soldier’s fault. The Winter Soldier would have accomplished exactly the orders that’d been given to him and even thwarted one of their enemies. No fault of him if Hydra strategists didn’t thought about everything, right?

So why had he forgotten telling her.

He had barely left his house and turned the corner when a black car had stopped near the sidewalk. The door had opened and Rumlow’s face had appeared from within. No word, just a look. And no choice either. During the trip, Winter stared at his - desperately - empty hands. Obviously, he would never have been able to text Nat with Rumlow at his side. And obviously he didn’t even _had_  his phone with him. Safety measure. He was talking too much with Nat and Sam about his feelings, recovering his memory and all that to take the risk Hydra would take his phone for a regular control. He had long changed for a untraceable phone but he also had gotten used to just leave it at home everytime he would meet with his handlers. So it was no mistake if his hands were empty. Yet a mistake was indeed made. Winter wished he had had time to go back home just long enough to send Nat a text. Now, he was all alone and that was wrong.

 

The briefing was as clear as the pain. The target was an easy one and discretion wasn’t even asked of him: Hydra was being cocky. Then, after he had learned everything he ought to in order to succeed, Rumlow wanted to test if he was ready. And, as expected from this sadistic man, Rumlow’s idea of test was stripping him naked while he had to fight five to ten opponents armed with stun batons. It was not exhausting - it was not even long. Winter would defeat this goons to the price of one or two burns. After that, Rumlow would enter the room and shock him until he cried. This was his cruel idea of entertainment: hearing him cry. At the beginning, Winter would endure the pain for several minutes, without blinking. But recently, he was giving up more and more quickly. And he was feeling more and more like shit.

Pain, anger, frustration - that was his feelings as he studied the flat from across the alley, laying on the rooftop of the opposite building. It was almost completely dark outside as there were few lampposts - be it an easy cut in the budget for the mayor’s holidays or an unexpected attempt at reducing light pollution. The flat however was still lit. The target sat alongside with the rest of his family, was finishing a movie on the TV. The sound coming from the open window near them was nothing more than a whisper up there, but the three of them was laughing happily. Then the movie ended and the little girl got agitated on the spot. The target looked pissed - but maybe he was only pretending because his wife wasn’t moving from the couch, looking at both of them tenderly while rubbing her rounded belly. Winter could name them all. The little girl was Marjolaine, 6th grade in the school from two roads away from here. The mother was Patricia - a nurse, a seller, one of the library’s volunteers. The target himself was John O’Sully. Former soldier and before that, former teacher. Recruited by SHIELD mainly because of his massive knowledge in languages. Guy spoke more of them that Winter did. (Which impressed him. A bit.)

Now, John had finally grabbed her daughter Marjo and was carrying her out of the room like a sack of potatoes. The woman followed not long afterwards, turning off the light in the living-room and closing the door behind her. That was his cue. The assassin put away his spyglasses and stepped back a little. Enough to give him the speed he needed to land on the other roof - which he did with a soft thud. From there, he was going to enter through the window. He chose the less-lit facade of the building to do so. As he expected, he entered Marjo’s room. The lying toys and plushes nearly got him to trip but he managed to approach the bed without crushing any Buzz Lightyear or Pinky Teddybear. With his night-vision goggles, her brilliant skin didn’t seem separated from her dark hair. Was the movie good? It seemed so because she was lightly smiling in her sleep. Winter poured the product onto the cotton tissue and gently pressed it to her face, waiting a few seconds. Then he exited the room. The corridor he found himself standing in offered two directions but he knew the layout of the flat and went left without a second of hesitation. He entered the couple’s bedroom with the same stealth and, again, applied the tissue to the woman’s face thus preventing her to wake up for at least ten more hours. Brave Patricia. She had left her country with her baby, hoping to live a better life. As for work, she was yet to get promoted to a decent position at her job and as for love, she had fallen for a man she knew would never be allowed to marry her. And after that night, that would simply stop being in the field of dreamt possibilities.

Winter toured the bed and took out his gun. With his left hand, he shook the man awake.

“What? What the-”

Winter turned on the lamp placed on the bedside table. The man’s eyes grew wider and he lost all colors.

“The Winter Soldier” he stuttered. “Oh, please- please, no!”

Winter seized him by his pajamas’ collar and threw him off bed. Agent O’Sully got back on his feet immediately, his training eventually kicking off. He only glanced at Patricia and his face expressed a mix between pain and relief. Then he dived under the bed but Winter was faster and he kicked him on the nose, efficiently preventing him from retrieving the weapon hidden under the furniture. The man was bleeding abundantly but was not defeated yet. And maybe it was the presence of the woman who shared his life near him but he put up a honest fight. His punches were direct and precise. Winter had to drop his gun to fight back more easily. The man saw in this an opportunity - but he never stood a chance against the Winter Soldier. A quick, sharp twist to his knee with the metal arm destroyed his bone and made him unable to reach the gun let alone to try to escape - which he had started attempting. Ultimately, his face being a hot mess, pinned against the window, he started begging against. As if that would ever work. Winter pulled out another gun with his right hand and pushed harder with his left. The man choked, his own hands desperately wrapped around the metal arm trying to get it away from him - vainly. Winter put the gun against his forehead.

“No, please!” said the man one last time.

Then Winter shot him and pushed him through the windows.

John fell without a sound. Winter stood there, watching, until he was sure his job was done. He looked around. Perfect timing for crushing the window while blowing up this man’s head: not even a single drop of blood of the windowsill. He wished he could said the same about the carpet though. Quite fortunately, it was crimson so he had no doubt the blood wouldn’t be visible, even in the daylight.

He cleaned the glass’ rubble, throwing it outside before closing the curtains. He turned off the lamp and left through Marjo’s room. Before her mother and her woke up tomorrow, John’s body would have been found and taken away.

 

*

 

The rest of Winter’s night was restless. He didn’t even know what time he got home, nor did he look at his phone in case Nat had answered him. He felt exhausted, drained, even. Yet it had been one of the easiest missions of these past months. But as he eventually drifted away, he couldn’t but wonder why he always had to kill good people. Agent O’Sully wasn’t even a field agent.

 

*

 

On the morning, he was not feeling any better. Steve’s brightest smile couldn’t alleviate his mood. It was like a headache. Like that time he was sick and kept throwing up and his whole body felt numb. Except this time, he was pretty sure it was all in his mind only. He seized the mug Steve was handing out to him. Coffee would make it better. Surely. Yet, he hadn’t started drinking that the entrance door burst open and Natasha barged into their living-room.

“Hey Nat!” chimed Steve, “Good to see you ! - though we weren’t expecting you.”

His perfect blue eyes got clouded a little as he thought more about it.

“We weren’t, right?”

The redhead didn’t answer. Instead, she threw the newspaper she was carrying on the counter, just under Winter’s nose. Her face was closed and she didn’t look away from him. The assassin took a slow slip of his drink as if he hadn’t noticed. Steve, on the other hand, grabbed the paper as cheerfully as always - and as clueless as he could be.

“Neighbourhood-loved vet got killed in an alley, next to his home” he read. “Aw, poor man!”

As no one else was talking, he decided to keep reading - and his frowned deepened.

“Wait... That’s agent O’Sully, right? What happened?”

“What happened” said Natasha, talking at last, “was the Winter Soldier.”

Winter felt his cheeks burning. He dove deeper inside his mug. Steve let go of the newspaper. He wasn’t smiling anymore.

“Of course. Who else would do something like that?”

Winter’s eyes fell on the article and caught a quote. It was coming from the local grocery shop owner. John, he said basically, was loved in the whole district because he was helping immigrants to obtain their papers. A true good man. Before he could think about it, the brunette heard his own voice saying:

“He’s just doing his job.”

He regretted his word immediately. Steve was refraining himself from exploding out of - rightful - anger but the worst one - it was Natasha. She didn’t speak anymore but he could feel her gaze. A bit like betrayed. Or disbelieving. Or frankly disgusted.

“I mean-”

“Shut the fuck up” she told him.

Steve rose.

“I’m gonna grab my stuff” he mumbled.

They heard him rummaging inside his room. When he left, he was wearing his stealth suit and carrying his circular bag - Winter had always wondered why it was circular but now more than before, he didn’t dare asking. Before Steve left, he turned to him:

“His job is to kill good, innocent people. You do realize that, right? So let me tell you: when you’re that type of guy, you either quitted a long time ago or you stayed because you enjoy others’ pain. And _that_  makes you one of the worse people on Earth.”

It felt like a direct shot - and Steve was long gone when he also realized he hadn’t even gotten his morning kiss. Without Steve’s love, Winter felt nothing but emptiness. He didn’t get the chance to dwell on that, however, as Natasha sat on stool in front of him and let her anger rage on.

“ _You were supposed to text me!_ Why didn’t you text me, Barnes?!”

“I- I don’t know. It happened so fast...”

“Oh you mean you just killed him too fast? Don’t bullshit me!”

Here goes the headache again. The brunette pushed his mug away. Coffee was cold now, disgusting. He wished he could just go back to sleep. But Nat wasn’t done with him yet.

“We knew him, James! We talked to him-”

“I didn’t kill him in his sleep!” he shouted.

Natasha looked at him, puzzled. Clearly, she didn’t see how that made it any better.

“I woke him. I gave him a chance to defend himself!”

For a second, the redhead didn’t reply. Then she said, really slowly:

“How does that even matter! You are. The fucking. Winter. Soldier! _When did anyone ever had a chance against you?_  Tell me!”

“You would.”

That... had slipped again. Winter closed his eyes. Suddenly, he longed for Hydra’s HQ. His handlers wouldn’t be disappointed by what he had done. His handlers would be very happy. They wouldn’t give him a headache because he had followed orders.

Natasha rose. She took the newspaper and put it away in her purple vest. Just like the blonde a moment ago, she marked a stop on the threshold.

“You know, maybe Steve is right. Maybe you do want to stay with them and not get out of there.”

 

*

 

Hours were passing too slowly and Steve wasn’t coming back. Winter laid in bed, unable to get some sleep and unable to rise on his feet. Nat didn’t text him again and neither did Sam - the redhead had probably told him the whole case and he was pissed at him like the two others were. Around noon, however, the blonde sent him a text. He seemed in much better mood. He told him he would be home by four and ended the message with a heart emoji. Around three, out of boredom, Winter rose and opened his cupboards mindlessly. There he found the canvas and the paintbrushes Steve had given him on his birthday. Something lit up in his mind. He had read it in his journals this morning: painting could help him. So he grabbed the medium canvas and sat right on the floor. His past self had written that he had just painted what he was feeling on the moment. Winter didn’t question that. There was blood all over his mind, deep inside every one of his feelings so he painted plain red. He painted with crimson and blood red and burned red. And he just painted his mind - a big ball of entangled red threads or a cave with red features. And when he had filled the whole canvas, he looked at it and did not feet any better. He figured out that it wasn’t enough. He rose and he retrieved the largest canvas, along with its easel, and went to settle in the living room, his back on the wall. He went back to his bedroom to fetch the paint and brushes and set them all on one of the stools. Then, he began to paint.

 

Always good men. He didn’t remember that from his Russian past. The people he killed then - it was neither good or bad people. He killed the ones rioting against the government. A few times, his handlers hadn’t had time to send him to kill someone and that someone became the one to kill them and afterwards to send him to kill more people. All of them had a family, several of them beat their wives daily, most of them carried a picture of their daughter or a drawing of their son everywhere. But now, it was always, always good people. He hadn’t set foot again at the University he was supposedly studying for months but he knew that the teacher he killed was still being mourned by his students. And what about Patricia, Marjo? Would the little girl smile again? Would the memory of that evening, of the movie, be tainted for ever? Would either of them feel guilty about that evening, about not seeing what was wrong (nothing), about sleeping too much? Hydra was bad. He wanted out. But Hydra was easy, too. And wasn’t also SHIELD? He knew how to kill someone - had he ever known something else? Would he be really out of this all someday, or would he just end up in SHIELD just to protect himself from Hydra? And SHIELD would send him to kill people, too. Good people or just neither people? What did it matter? Because you know what? At the end of the day, it was their fault. It was their fault only. The University teacher, Agent O’Sully. They could have just done their good things in their district and not messed up with powerful enemies. Stalin’s boots! They knew the risks! Yet... if he hadn’t been for him, if the bad side had never had him; would O’Sully have survived?

It was painful thinking about all that.

It was painful thinking about what Steve would think of him if he ever discovered what he did in his life. If he ‘quitted’ only now, would that still make it okay for all his past crimes? Would Steve still love him?

Steve was back, now. He was sitting on the couch, facing him. Winter could only see him in the corner of his eyes as he kept painting. Steve wasn’t mad at him anymore - even though he couldn’t know that he was actually been mad at his lover - and his presence was somewhat comforting. The red turned lighter - pink on some spots. It wasn’t coming to an end, however. Winter was still painting, sometimes covering long-dry spots while sometimes going over fresh ones. The paint got mixed - and that made him upset. Every brush’s touch was a murder. And every layer added was his feelings. His anger, his pain, his frustration. His regrets. That one was new. That one left dark, long lines across the painting.

Eventually, he got exhausted before the painting was finished. Winter put down his brushes and took a step back. Steve rose to join his side and his fingers intertwined with his in a natural way. They both stared at the unfinished painting. Its ‘unfinishness’ was blatant: it manifested itself in the form of a huge blank space right in the middle of the canvas.

“What’s supposed to be in the middle?” Steve asked softly.

“I don’t know” Winter answered.

 

Later, the two of them - and despite the warm weather - cuddled under the same blanket and watched a really old, really silly movie. It dated back to the 1960s or something; the special effects were so miserable it got hilarious. Even more later, they were in Steve’s bed and Steve was whispering soft words in his ears and he got confident he would sleep well that night. Then the next day, Steve moved the easel and the unfinished painting in the other corner of the room - under the snow painting - to make room and from then on, it remained there and Winter didn’t touched it again.  


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'A dead man's body'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I forgot to write last week. Literally forgot. How could one forgot to spend four hours on their fic?!

It was still very early in the morning thus one could wonder why he was already up. Truth was, Steve Rogers always got up early in the morning but truth also was, never to look at a dead man’s body.

“You’re okay?”

Natasha spoke in a low, soft voice, unheard of everyone else in the room while brushing gently his hand. Steve had to shook himself away from his thoughts and the sight to look at her. He then nodded silently. She nodded back to him before stepping inside the crime scene again.

The crime scene.

What he was seeing was a man, slouched in his armchair, all of his members loose, his eyes rolled upwards and his tongue sticking out from his half-open mouth. Completely dead. There were two bottles on the ground, one broken into a thousand green shards, scattered across the carpet. Behind him was the door to the kitchen and from where he stood, Steve could see the frozen meal on the table - left untouched. The flat was really small: apart from those two rooms, there were the bedroom and the bathroom. The windows opening to a busy block of New York was blinded on one side by the shabby, purple curtains - not a great choice of colors next to the green armchair. Nobody had thought about opening them though it was starting to smell funny.

Steve felt suddenly ill.

The place was crowded with agents of SHIELD. Natasha was currently talking to one scientist next to the dead man but there were two more in the bathroom looking for fingerprints, three in the kitchen, talking with their superior over the radio and two more taking photos. The blonde spared a glance to Winter, standing against the bathroom’s door frame and looking around no more comfortable than he was feeling himself. Come to think of it, calling the Captain in seemed logical (considering Nat knew about that first hand and also considering who was the victim) but why did they have to wake Winter up too? The brunette might be part of the team but he surely didn’t want to see corpses. Hopefully, Sam - who couldn’t be there for the time being - would have kept his spirits high and be able to cheer them all during lunch time.

For now, he guessed they just have to be patient. And try not to think too hard about that stuff they had just discovered...

“It was the work of a pro, no doubt about that.”

Natasha was back beside him, along with her fellow investigator. The man - surprisingly young but with that ghost of smugness on his face that made Steve distrust his honestly as a person immediately - adjusted his glasses and added:

“Strangulation. The marks are well visible on his neck. However, there is no sign at all of a break-in. Whoever did this was very good.”

Steve huffed in annoyance.

“Just go and say it was the Winter Soldier. I mean, who else seriously?” he asked almost angrily, staring right at Natasha.

The redhead bit her lips. Steve frowned. Did she doubt it? It was fair to say she knew more than he did and was well beyond better at this than he was but the evidence seemed clear enough even for him; a master assassin targeting people relating to SHIELD? Sounds like the Winter Soldier all right. So then-

“You don’t believe it?” he asked.

“No, no, I do! I do.”

She glanced at Winter and after a second of hesitation, headed to him. She seized him and threw him inside the bathroom while ordering to the two agents to get out. She then went inside too and closed the door behind her. Steve could have easily used his super-hearing to know what they were talking about but he preferred not to. Natasha looked worried and Winter deserved his privacy.

So instead, Steve came nearer the poor man. He looked at him with pity - while the scientist was kind of making his rapport to him? (the blonde wasn’t even paying attention.) Spotting the little bag on the armpit, he couldn’t resist the temptation to grab it and have a better look at what was inside.

“I assume you know a lot about these, right?” the scientist asked.

Steve’s eyes flicked to the man before focusing back on the sample. It was a single tooth and to the untrained eye, a perfectly normal tooth. But they were SHIELD and thus, they had noticed it almost immediately when they had ran the first analyzes on the body; a fake tooth, full of cyanide. The famous fake tooth Hydra agents used to kill themselves when they were about to get captured.

“Yeah. I’ve seen it before.”

The blonde didn’t elaborate and the man in a white coat went away to meet with his colleagues. Steve could turn his full attention on their assassinated agent.

When he had said ‘before’ he meant ‘during the war.’ Since he had awaken in this new century, it was the first time he was face to face with Hydra’s techniques again. Obviously, it was naive of him to think that, by killing the Red Skull, he had put an end to the evil organization. But he hadn’t realized how much current Hydra was like former Hydra. Yet, that was not everything - for Steve knew that man.

The man’s name was Pete Thomson. They weren’t working on the same team, but Pete was a close friend of Jack Rollins, one of the STRIKE team’s members so they would often see each other at the bar after a mission. Had Pete been undercover all this time, working for Hydra? Steve wanted to believe he was good at judging people and so he refused to consider the option. The Winter Soldier killed Pete. Surely, that meant the Winter Soldier tried to frame him. Surely, that was why Natasha had looked embarrassed.

Speaking of the wolf - the redhead opened the door at this instant and Steve looked up at the two of them immediately. Winter didn’t look great. To be honest, he looked like he didn’t know what to do with himself. The blonde turned to Natasha.

“What did you talk about?”

Yeah, okay, so much for privacy. (But who cared about boundaries when Winter looked so uncomfortable?)

“Nothing at all. Steve, I’m afraid we’ve got a problem.”

He frowned. Standing behind her, Winter nodded while tucking on his sleeve in an attempt to hide his metal arm - the obvious sign of him not being at ease.

“What? What’s happening?”

Natasha shook his head before he was finished.

“Not here.”

 

Sam was waiting for them, as planned, on the terrace of a taco shop, under a large sunshade. A full plate of tacos were carefully aligned on the table next to him. The black man was wearing sunglasses, definitely because he wanted to look cooler than for any other reasons that would include discretion or simply to protect his eyes from the sun. (But the truth was, he did look cool.)

When he saw them arriving, he jumped on his feet and grabbed Winter into a tight embrace.

“Aw, my man! How’ve you been doin’ _Komrade_?”

“You know he’s American right?” Steve smiled.

Winter whispered a few words in Russian as a reply then grinned at Sam’s dismayed face. Sam smacked him in the back in retaliation and they finally sat down.

The supersoldier and his roommate began to eat at once under the amused gaze of their two friends. When their belly was half full, they were able to stop and came to the point of this lunch: Pete’s murder.

“I don’t think this has anything to do with a set up” Natasha started.

She had this seductive, chill pose but Steve knew her hand, delicately laying on her tight, was in reality ready to grab her gun the moment it was needed. And her frequent giggles and now head shaking was nothing more than her discreetly checking their environment.

“Agree” said Winter.

He was now nipping at a taco and looked better than earlier.

“What do you mean?” Sam asked, “You think Pete was really-”

“A Hydra agent?” Steve finished suddenly discouraged. He sighed. “But he was so... nice and open.”

The redhead put her hand on his.

“It’s not your fault if you couldn’t see it. He was a good spy, after all.”

She picked up a taco.

“If I recall correctly, Garrett trained him so whether Hydra hired him before or after his training, he had a lot of experience in that field.”

“I don’t think I know Garrett” Sam chimed in.

“Probably not. But you might know his current pupil. Ward. He’s with FitzSimmons all the time.”

Sam’s face lightened up.

“Oh right! FitzSimmons! I hope we’ll get to work with them one day. They’re adorable” he added for Winter with a wink, "almost like you and Rogers."

“It's highly unlikely.”

Nat clicked her tongue.

“Now, let get back to the subject. Steve” she said, focusing her gaze on him again, “I didn’t want to talk about it with all the other agents around us because I’m not sure about them yet. But we have to go back to investigate.”

The blonde nodded mindlessly. He was feeling stranger to the conversation currently happening. Nat could tell him all she wanted he had no way to know, he was still feeling ashamed of himself. They shared beers, spent time together. How could he not have seen he was deceiving them all? And how could Nat remain that calm if she had been fooled all this time too? Wasn’t she upset?

They finished eating their tacos with Sam speaking loud and long as he used to but his jokes aimed more specifically at Winter.

 

*

 

When they returned to the flat, the body was gone but the smell was even worse. Maybe it was the heat from early summer or maybe it was the chemicals the scientists had used during their investigation but whatever it was, it did not make the atmosphere smell better, to the point where Steve had to go open the windows.

“So how did he get in anyway?” he wondered out loud, “I mean, the Winter Soldier.”

“Not important” Natasha replied.

Steve frowned at her.

“Well, excuse me for disagreeing here. If we can figure out how-”

The woman cut him off before he was done.

“We do, Steve! I know exactly how he got in and at what time and whatnot. So trust me when I tell you it’s not important.”

The silence fell between the two. Natasha was scrutinizing the armchair while Steve remained near the windows, breathing fresh air. Winter seemed to walk aimlessly around the flat and Sam was making snark remarks about everything (not helping, Sam).

Suddenly, Winter got on his knees and pulled the carpet of the floor with his left arm. He raised it again before slamming it loudly on the wooden ground, breaking it. A secret cache appeared. The three friends knelt beside it. They got out ID papers (all fake ones with multiple nationalities), guns they could tell were not coming from SHIELD’s armory and some briefing files. As they intended to go through those last ones, they heard Sam’s voice coming from the bedroom. They joined him there, only to see he had removed the bed, revealing yet another hidden spot.

“I don’t know about you guys but this looks like a big prank.”

The hiding place contained one single thing: an uniform. More precisely, the green and yellow, as famous as ridiculous Hydra’s uniform.

Winter spoke first - stating everyone’s thought.

“Even for a Hydra agent, this is pretty cliché.”

Steve was seeing a solution, here.

“So this may be a set-up after all...”

But Winter and Natasha were shacking their heads in unison.

“No way. Did you read the files?” Natasha added, waving the things under Steve’s nose.

Steve took them. He hadn’t had time to actually read them yet though he had noticed how familiar the code names sounded. Opening the files, he found exactly what he expected to read: all these missions were ‘counter-missions’ to the ones he had gone on with his STRIKE team. Why had they assigned him these missions, he had wondered, before coming to the conclusion it was due to their trickiness. However, this was proof of the opposite: it was because Hydra could use him too. Did that mission eventually fail? Captain America failed. Did the pirates manage to kill one hostage? Captain America’s fault. And while he was doing these missions, made more difficult because someone on the inside could provide the intel to their enemy, he wasn’t within SHIELD, looking for said someone. Winter had warned him about a spy within the organization but he hadn’t taken him seriously enough. And then Peggy did too - and yet he hadn’t listened either. Now he was facing the facts.

“How many do you think there are?” he asked Natasha, glancing at Winter and Sam, busy studying the uniform. “How deep does it run?”

The spy couldn’t answer.

“I was busy with the mission Fury gave me-”

“Which is?”

She sighed.

“You know I can’t tell you.”

He grabbed her by the arm, forcing her to look at him.

“Hydra has been infiltrating SHIELD for God knows long. Don’t you think that’s a bit more important than your little secrets with Fury?”

They stared at each other.

“I need to know I can trust you, Nat” the blonde eventually added, lowering his voice shyly.

“Pierce.”

“The director of SHIELD?”

The redhead crossed her arms.

“Co-director with Fury. But yeah, that man. We’re suspecting a connection between him and Lukin. Not the good one if you see what I mean.”

“You think he could be Hydra?”

That would make his world collapse. SHIELD was Peggy’s legacy, her lifetime work, something she strongly believed in - and something he had came to believe in too, thanks to her. Knowing Hydra could have a few spies within their ranks was bad enough but to think it could be running deeper than that?

“Fury still trusts him.”

 _That didn’t answer the question_ , Steve thought.

Suddenly, Sam’s voice came through.

“Okay, so if you two are finished?”

He was sitting beside the cache along with Winter. Their two friends exchanged a glance and quickly went to sit next to them.

“We may have found something” started Wilson.

“This uniform is way too cliché” continued Winter.

“Yeah, you said that before” Steve said, “so what’s your point?”

“Our point” Sam spoke again, “is that this is a set-up.”

Steve’s heart bumped hopefully.

“You mean Pete is innocent?”

His three other teammates gave him a look full of pity.

“No Steve” Winter answered, “Pete is definitely Hydra. But someone is also definitely trying to use that to mislead us.”

The brunette kept explaining the situation and they all listened carefully.

“I don’t know if we were meant to find the files - I only did so because, well, I’m really good. But the tooth, the uniform, those ones, we were meant to find them. And remember, Pete was killed by Hydra.”

“So” Sam tried, “Hydra is onto us. But then, why kill one of its people and let us know they’re here?”

They fell silence, each trying to come up with the solution. Eventually, Nat said:

“To lure us into looking at the wrong people.” She pointed at the flashy uniform, only the weakest and most disposable members wore and even so, only when Hydra wanted its operation to be known. “They want us to think Pete is just a pawn and we should start looking for ugly uniforms in the locker room. _Which means_ ” she took a deep breath, “this is running way deeper than we thought.”

 

Everything was going to hell.

Steve wasn’t paying attention anymore. Peggy’s legacy was at stake and he couldn’t let Hydra destroy SHIELD from the inside. Using the good agents to do the bad things, using SHIELD’s tech meant to help people to kill them better. He couldn’t stay away from all that - but at the time what could he do, really? They didn’t know who was Hydra, how high in the hierarchy it ran. How long were they even there? Since they had Peggy ‘accepted’ in her hospital? She warned him! How could he not have listened to her?!

_I’m so sorry, Peg._

His phone buzzed. He looked at it and saw the familiar coded phrase that meant his mission was about to begin. He had almost forgot about it. The STRIKE team was supposed to go free a gold mine or something from Islamist terrorists. Funny how suddenly Steve thought it was actually none of their business. Like that would actually allow SHIELD/Hydra to put their hands on that gold. Nevertheless, it wasn’t like he had a choice. He had already accepted to go.

He hold up his phone to Natasha’s face, showing her the text.

“You’re coming too?”

She shook her head.

“No. They didn’t call me for that one. Besides, with all this” she pointed at the files and the uniform laying between the four of them, “I need to go check a few things at SHIELD’s HQ.”

“Can I come?” asked Winter.

Before Steve could reply, Nat shut him up - her voice surprisingly cold.

“You damn aren’t coming. Go have a hot chocolate with Wilson or whatever but you stay __out__  of this.”

That being said, she rose. The look she then gave Steve made him jump on his feet too. He apologized to the other two men and left with the redhead.

The blonde got behind her on her flying motorcycle and they flew to the massive helicarrier. They parted on the inside when Natasha took the direction of Fury’s office and the archives while he went to meet his team inside the changing room.

“We almost thought you had chicken out, Cap!” said the one with glasses - Davies was the name.

The blonde chuckled lightly as he always do when his teammates were teasing him. They were all some flavor of machismo but deep down they were good people. Or that’s what he had thought all along. Steve eyed Jack, in the corner. He was quieter than usual. While putting on his stealth suit, Steve approached him.

“I’m sorry for your loss.”

The man got startled. It was subtle but the blonde didn’t miss it. He tried to have the most natural voice but he looked more intensely at the brown-haired man.

“Pete was a good guy. I’ll miss him.”

Jack looked away, fumbling into his locker as he was in search of his last piece of equipment.

“Yeah, he- he was. I’ll miss him too.”

No need to insist. Did Jack knew about Pete’s real allegiance? They were close friends but again, so he had been with Pete. Maybe Pete fooled the two of them. Or maybe Jack was trying to fool him now. Who could know? _Nat would _.__  But he wasn’t Nat and apparently, he wasn’t able to judge people anymore.

Full of his thoughts, Steve climbed into the Quinjet that was supposed to drop them when they’d arrive above the mine. He didn’t notice Brock sitting next to him and was lightly surprised when he heard his voice.

“How about your best pal, Cap? Why isn’t he coming?”

Brock was grinning cheerfully, as you may say. Steve tried to reciprocate his smile.

“No, he’s-”

For a second, the blonde wondered what he was supposed to say. Winter wasn’t coming because he wasn’t part of the STRIKE team. He never was. So why ask that anyway?”

“This is a bit too much for him.”

Brock’s grin became kind of ‘grinnier.’

“Oh yes, right, it is a bit _too much_  indeed and you wouldn’t want him to get hurt obviously?”

“Yeah, exactly.”

If he were to be perfectly honest, there was something in Rumlow’s attitude that made Steve really uncomfortable. Rumlow’s interest for Winter was strange if not creepy. Whenever they met in SHIELD’s HQ, Winter would lower his gaze and walk closer to the wall. And there was no doubt Brock had noticed it - and no doubt either he wasn’t trying to clear up the situation. Steve’s curiosity had been piqued but he had seen no way to talk about it with Winter (and he wasn’t close enough to Brock to talk with him either). Winter was a proud man and him backing down in front of another man meant their relationship was everything but friendly. Which made Brock’s interest even stranger. That is, if Brock wasn’t Hydra. Was Bock Hydra? Steve looked around him. All his teammates - all males - remained silent and focused. Because they were thinking about the mission or because they weren’t on the same side after all? Were they all Hydra?

Damn. Paranoia. The last thing he wanted to feel towards the people he was working with.

 

The mission was... Was the mission even successful? Steve couldn’t tell anymore. Everything happened according to plan - or at least, the plan he was part of. The Quinjet’s bridge opened and he dived. His teammates followed one by one, opening their parachute almost immediately. He didn’t; they hadn’t jumped from that high and besides, it allowed him to knock out the guards on the top of the mountain thus making it easier for everyone else to land. The mine was at the base of the mountain, guarded by a tower, two machine guns and a dozen guards.

They parted, Rumlow leading a team that would come from the left and himself leading the one that would come from the right. They struggled a bit (mainly because his shield pierced through the tower like it was some butter but then got stuck in it which, if you think about it, was a bit ridiculous) but the terrorists didn’t get to sound the alarm and thus, they were able to enter the mine stealthily.

Brock shoot two guards but they captured the rest of the terrorists alive. Steve was the one supposed to interrogate them and he did. However, he couldn’t help but notice that Rumlow took two other members of the team to go to the bottom of the mine’s tunnels and didn’t tell him what they did when they were back.

So, basically, yeah. Successful. The ‘good guys’ had won again. Hurrah. And what would happen to the mine and the inhabitants of the nearby village who were the rightful owners of it? Well, Captain America shouldn’t be bothered with such meaningless details.

Steve was glad to come home to Nat and Winter cooking some sort of Russian stew. (Which was delicious, by the way.)

 

*

 

“Hey Barnes?”

Winter hummed interrogatively. He sat cross-legged on his bed sheets, trying to write down the event of the days in his diary but Natasha wriggled her legs she had laid on his thighs and his pen slipped on the page. He frowned.

“Does Steve still think Pete was innocent?” the redhead asked.

That wasn’t too bad, honestly. He just crossed the word he was trying to write and wrote it again yet a bit further away on the line.

“No.”

The Russian spy who was reading, slouched on her belly suddenly turned and he couldn’t help but swore at the disaster. But then she withdrew her legs to her chest and it came to be good news. Finally, he could focus. (He liked his diary written neatly.)

“Still, why did they ask you to set him up?”

“Told ya already. Didn’t do it.”

“Barnes, you killed Pete. Don’t deny it.”

He looked up from his diary, mildly annoyed.

“Yeah, I know I did. Ain’t gonna deny anything. I choked him to death. Which was... pretty easy actually coz-”

He interrupted himself when he caught Nat’s glare.

“Anyway, I killed him but I didn’t hide the uniform. Must’ve been someone else before or after me, I can’t tell.”

The woman fell silent again, rubbing her chin against her knees. Winter looked at his writing and huffed. He had written that Sam and he had ice creams in the park but that had merely taken one line and now the whole thing was getting turned into a report. And Sam _explicitly_  told him his diary was _not_  for reports. Maybe he should give up for today.

“Killing people is bad” said Nat out of nowhere.

Winter didn’t look up. He had decided to sketch instead.

“He was a bad guy.”

“It doesn’t matter. Good people don’t kill other people, period.”

“Okay.”

The spy crawled to him and rested her chin on his shoulder.

“James, are you even listening to me?”

He sighed and faced her.

“I’m trying all you want, Nat. But not for Pete. He deserved it. I don’t feel guilty. _Period_ ” he added sarcastically.

The redhead rose and got out of the bed. She delicately put her shoes on again.

“Well at least, that means you feel guilty sometimes.”

They exchanged a look. Winter lowered his head to his diary - and missed Nat’s faint smile.

“Good night James.”

“G’night Tasha.”

He had sketched Pete’s dead face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys, I hope you're okay and you enjoyed the chapter! I'm here to announce that I'll be participating in the Marvel Trump Hate as a creator. Even if you don't like my work that much, go check it out coz it's a really nice project!


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'Sharon's briefing'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sure y'all gonna love that one! :D

A hot shower had always been something Steve appreciated. First of all, because - obviously - being able to do so no matter the time of the day or the season or whatever really, was a luxury he couldn’t even have fathomed back in the forties. Second, because his body ran hot and thus the water was as hot as he was when he was back from his morning jog. Cue the best part in this early summer: turning the water freezing cold just before the end.

Now he was clean and energized from that last part. Humming with satisfaction, his towel hanging from both sides of his neck, he barely remembered to put on his boxer before leaving the bathroom. He had no door to unlock for it had already been a while since they’d lock both doors leading inside the room when they were occupying it. Steve peeked around the corner and was delighted to catch sight of his boyfriend, currently eating his breakfast.

“Hey love, don’t wanna hurry you, but mind the time, OK?”

He smiled and dashed to his bedroom before Winter’s swearwords arrived to his ears. As for the brunette himself, he started chewing faster but in the harsher way. He was about to swallow a whole pancake in one go when there were three knocks on the entry door. He scowled, wrapped his pancake and went to the door, nipping at his greasy food. He didn’t have time to open it; only to step away from it.

“Make yourself at home” he grumbled, glaring at the redhead who had - like her usual self - entered the room without being officially invited in.

“You know I always do” is what he got for an answer as Natasha went to the counter, sat on Winter’s seat and started eating in his pancakes’ plate.

Winter huffed but wasn’t in the mood for fighting. He finished his own - and actually last - pancake and went for the coffee maker. Coffee would cure the annoyance.

“Thought you’d have eaten” he mumbled not even fooling himself.

“Yeah, I did. But Steve makes amazing pancakes.”

That was true. Steve made amazing meals altogether. At a time, it was a huge point in favor of Winter’s stay in the house. Hydra would never feed him with such high quality food.

Ten minutes later, he was into his second cup of coffee, internally debating whether he should take a shower or not. Coffee hadn’t had the expected effect - to be fair, it never had, its taste was only bitter enough to keep him entertained - so he might want to try the shower. On the other hand - the metal one - a shower never failed to bring out bad memories. After all, the Winter Soldier never showered - he got rinsed. Fortunately, this was the moment the door shook again under firm knocks. Thanks Stalin Father of the People.

This time, it was Sharon Carter. He led her into the living-room and before closing the door, searched the environment with hope (maybe Sam was right behind her?). If it wasn’t enough already, Steve stepped out of his bedroom at that same time. At least, he had put something on - a nice jumper and a pair of jeans, but his hair was still a bit wet and thus all over the place in the cutest way possible. Winter stared at the blonde woman and that latter caught his staring. She tilted her head and smiled - annoyingly.

“Calm down, big boy, I know when a man’s already taken.”

This was exactly what he had doubts about. For this woman to know what he was thinking meant that she was - as a matter of fact - a really good, frightening spy. The brunette chose to back down and watched as Steve shook her hand and Natasha briefly hugged her before leading her to the couch. Steve proposed to make tea and Sharon accepted. Within seconds, the two women were talking in a low-voice but a rapid rate of speech. Update: he had found something scarier than Natasha alone.

He joined Steve and grabbed a tray before placing on it five cups. He could feel Steve’s eyes on him. Eventually the blonde elbowed him.

“What?” he asked.

That smile. That little cocky smile. Winter frowned.

“I like it when you’re jealous. I think it’s cute.”

_Don’t think about the blushing._

“I’m gonna smash you so hard you’ll have to sit every missions out for the next six months.”

He grabbed the kettle from the blonde’s hands and took the tray to the living-room, putting it down on the small table before the couch. (Steve tried to sit down on it but apparently if the couch could bear two supersoldiers or three normal humans beings it couldn’t hold two normal human beings and one supersoldier. The roommates had to sit on the floor.)

They started to talk about idle things like the new collection of boots Natasha had spotted for Sharon or Steve’s last struggle with modern culture - someone had made a pop culture reference the day before and everyone had laughed except Steve and the blonde had no desire to be ‘that’ guy who didn’t understand references - and it was all nice and useless until suddenly, it was about __Winter__. What the hell.

“Did you go outside lately? Or maybe with Steve?” Natasha asked.

“I know that museum, not far from here” Sharon chimed in, “the current exposition is about the Huns but mainly their army. Their weapons and armors and all. I heard it’s pretty well done” she finished, heavily implying that this was supposed to be his next cultural excursion.

_Knock-knock-knock._

Today, this door was both his best hopes and worst nightmares.

“I got it.”

He rose to go open the door to Sam. The Falcon was all geared up; he took off his goggles and entered, careful not to scrape his wings on the framework.

“Sorry everyone. Had a call just before leaving. You mind if I put my stuff here?”

“No, not at all!”

Steve rose too, willing to help him get out of his suit but the black man had already taken his ‘stuff’ off and put it in the corner, near the unfinished painting. His eyes locked on the canvas and he remained still for a few seconds, staring at it. Finally, without a word, he came to sit besides Natasha and Sharon, on the couch. Nobody talked as Steve and Winter sat down again, so eventually he said:

“Maybe we should start?”

Sharon nodded and took out of her white jacket a bunch of brownish files. They moved the cups of tea to the edge of the table and she put them down for everyone to look at. And then she started talking.

“So, Hydra has infiltrated SHIELD. And if we’re all gathered here I guess it’s because we have enough faith in each other to trust nobody here is working for Hydra.”

Winter tensed unnoticeably. But Sharon didn’t look at him - didn’t glance at him. A glance would have been a reflex, something even she couldn’t have stopped. That meant she didn’t know at all. Didn’t even suspect a thing.

His eyes met with Natasha however. She was the one trusting him right now. She knew and was choosing to let him know everything he needed to stop the four of them for ever getting in Hydra’s way. She was choosing to trust him with that most important intel. He broke eyes’ contact, unable to sustain it anymore.

Sharon continued, unbothered.

“We have to think about a plan of counter-attack or at least, a way to unmask the double agents. The best course of action, of course, would be to eliminate the menace entirely. Have every agent tested and all. But as we don’t know who’s the most highly-placed pawn of Hydra, this is impossible for now. It could even cause more damages.”

She opened one of the files to reveal the picture of Lukin.

“The good news is - I mean, if there is even a good news - the missions Fury assigned to us might not be unrelated to that. I mean, we all know, now, that Lukin has a contact within SHIELD. At first, I thought it was just someone he corrupted through money but now that I think of it, it might as well be that highly-placed guy we’re looking for.”

She flipped through the pages before taking out a picture of a big mansion, set in a apparent uninhabited land, with a forest in the back and perfect lawns all around it.

“This is Lukin’s mansion, in Ukraine. He doesn’t go there very often but it’s his family’s mansion and I have all the reasons to believe that’s where he hides his more precious information - or, let’s say, his most controversial ones. I intend to go there in two days. Fury knows about that.”

“Thank you Sharon” Steve said. He was focused on the files. Looking at the others two for approbation, he put them back on the table. “As for us, we were asked to find AIM facilities. Half of them were already emptied when we got there and the other half were dead ends.”

“Data were corrupted or destroyed.” Sam explained. “Or burned when it was papers. Nothing we could use.”

“Yeah” the blonde spoke again “but now I suspect that would have just led us back to SHIELD. It’s obvious Hydra is disguising its every moves into SHIELD’s operations.”

“What about your STRIKE team?” Sharon interrupted, “do you think they are...? Or possibly I mean.”

“I don’t know. I really don’t know.”

Natasha reached out to gently pat Steve’s hand. She knew how it was torturing Steve - not knowing whether he could trust his comrades in arms of not. She then turned to the blonde woman.

“Actually, we’re supposed to stop a French pirate in two days. I’ll use that opportunity to study them all more closely.”

Sharon nodded.

“But there’s something I wanted to talk to you about, guys” the redhead added and her eyes flashed back on Winter - who hadn’t spoken so far. “Something you could help me with.”

“Me? What is it about?” the brunette asked.

His voice sounded hoarse. The whole conversation was making him feel uncomfortable. Forget the fact he still didn’t trust the Sharon girl, the last thing he wanted was to involve Steve in all that. He knew how deep it ran. Stalin’s boots! __Of course__  he knew! He would maybe even spill out the names if Natasha asked him. But that would mean putting Steve in danger. His handlers made themselves clear enough about that and he had answered accordingly. To keep Steve safe, he would not hesitate to kill everyone else.

Including the three other people in that room.

“Remember that device Hydra stole from SHIELD, a few months ago? You know, when that idiot Barton was on duty? We knew about it so we bugged it.”

He squinted his eyes.

“Yeah, I remember. So what?”

“Well, it was a kind of EMP developed specially to be used against Tony. But - and okay, I know what’s this worth” she quickly added, seeing Steve’s horrified face. “ _ _but__  we have like three of them on the helicarrier and as much if not more at the Playground. Plus, considering they’ve done it with weapons, why didn’t they have it manufactured by AIM too? I mean, why going all the trouble to steal it? And by trouble, I mean they sent their best asset.”

“You mean-”

“Yes, the Winter Soldier. Considering the man’s carrier, this is obviously a wast of his ‘talents.’ So why do it?”

Winter sighed loudly.

“How could we know?”

Nat frowned at him but decided to drop the subject - at least for now.

“Okay, fine. So, now, second thing: we bugged the EMP. We bugged it specifically to spot one of Hydra’s HQ. Not even the main one. Fury knew about it and damn, I even told _Tony_ about it! And did we hear about that?”

Finally, Winter seemed to react.

“We never heard a thing about that EMP!”

“And they haven’t tried to use it either” Steve added.

Iron Man just had a rough weeks - to the point he had to call Barton to the rescue - but no one made a move with such a fatal weapon. Yet, not ten days ago, Tony was nearly at the mercy of anyone. (Steve was kind of infuriated to have learned about it in the newspapers because what were the Avengers for if one of their member could be taken out that easily without the others knowing shit about it?)

“What the f- heck” said Winter, correcting himself at the last second. “They never needed that EMP.”

“That’s where I was going for” Natasha nodded. “This must mean it was a trap but I don’t know _how_  it was a trap, you know?”

They looked at each other. They didn’t need to speak for the other to follow their train of thoughts. The trap would have been for Hydra to uncover their secret deal - ie, that Natasha was helping him while ‘lightly’ sabotaging his missions. But that mission happened months ago and Pierce never implied he knew about his connection with the Black Widow!

Suddenly, someone knocked on the door and he jumped. He hadn’t realized he was that tensed...

And he sure knew for hell they weren’t expected any more guests.

“We weren’t expecting anyone?” Steve wondered out loud, echoing his thoughts.

Yet Natasha was already up.

“Actually, we were.”

She walked to the door and opened it, letting in Anthony E. Stark.

“I took the liberty to invite him” the spy stated in a casual tone.

“Hello everyone” the billionaire said, waving at them.

 

*

 

A break was decided. Or they spontaneously split into team. Either way, it happened way too fast and way too confusingly for Winter to understand so his only question was as followed: _why the hell was he alone with Stark?!_

Nat’s words resonated in his mind.

_“I feel the next days are going to be hard and we have to make sure we are all at our maximum capability. That’s why I called Tony: he needs to look at your arm.”_

Look at his arm. Neither of them seemed enthusiastic about the idea.

“Do you mind sitting? I think it’s gonna take a while.”

Tony pointed at the bar stool. Before he could sit, however, the man added:

“And take your shirt off, please.”

Winter felt his face turning red and hot. Tony had a briefcase with him - undoubtedly containing all his tools. This was exactly how they did it. Strip him naked. Mess with his arm. See the pain it was causing him - why not, after all. The only difference with today was that Tony had asked that he got naked by himself.

As he was nonetheless complying, taking off his shirt, his eyes met with Steve’s. The blonde smiled. His smile was so pure - and so confident Winter wasn’t about to get hurt, the brunette drew from it the courage he needed to finish his gesture and sat on the stool. Tony immediately perched on the kitchen counter.

“Okay, let’s see how this nasty girl is doing.”

He put on glasses - or rather glass, for there was nothing on the right side - and grabbed his screwdriver. In no time, he had opened the arm and was focusing on its inside.

“By the way” he said without looking up, “tell me if it hurts.”

“Mm-mm.”

Why was he being so concerned about his well-being? Tony knew. Tony had to know who he was and what he had done. After all, from late February to June it was barely four months since Winter attempted to murder him. And Tony’s attitude when they met again for his new arm one week later made it clear he knew. Yet he didn’t tell Steve (as Sam didn’t either) and moreover, he was being as gentle as always. Winter had to be honest: this guy was a complete mystery. (He could still remember the sensationalist headlines about Iron Man and/or Tony Stark. People in general seemed to be wary of him at best or to dislike him at worst.)

The minutes went by. Natasha and Sharon seemed to have fun - they were laughing while Sam and Steve looked at them, annoyed for the first one and embarrassed for the second one. Winter remained perfectly still. His position allowed him to look at Tony all he wanted. Iron Man didn’t lost his focus once. Even though he did so in weird ways; he was muttering to himself and often looking up at the ceiling as if the blueprints were written up there (and to be fair, that was surely what he was seeing). There was also Winter’s mug lying around on the counter - the brunette had forgotten to put it in the sink after drinking his coffee - and Tony would grab it, try to drink it, realize it was empty, put it down and then, a few seconds later, do it all over again. It was actually funny-cute. Winter eventually opened his mouth but Tony spoke first.

“Howard and Maria Stark.”

He finally stopped pocking at his arm to look at him in the eyes.

“Ring any bell?” he asked casually - but Winter could feel he was far from being casual in any ways. Anger, sadness; his nerves were on the fence. Truth be told, they were probably since the beginning.

Winter closed his eyes. Howard and Maria Stark... Howard Stark.

“Code blue guns.”

“So you actually did it, you bastard.”

Tony was still refraining himself. His left hand hardened his grip on the metal arm while the other closed in a fist around the screwdriver.

This was not supposed to happen. Or was it? The code name had triggered his memories. He didn’t intend to but he spoke. Before he could stop himself, he blurted out the whole report he had done to his handlers on that night, so long ago, that night of Decembre 16th, 1991. It was the report of a cold-blooded assassin - not a human anymore. An effective weapon. That’s how he liked to think of himself. He was effective. He was fast. Cryo embraced him as a reward afterwards.

Tony’s face had lost all its colors.

“Don’t you even remember them?”

What kind of question was that.

“I can remember all of them. If I want to.”

Was that what Tony wanted? For him to remember all those people he had killed over the decades? Did he want him to feel guilty? Because he would - not for all of them, but maybe for the ones he knew now were good people.

“I can remember their faces if you want.”

Tony was now shaking and he only spoke through gritted teeth.

“No, for fuck’s sake, Barnes! That’s not what I asked you!” _ _-_ Wait, how did he...? _-__  “I’m talking about the war! My father- Howard used to be your friend! He told me-”

The man had to interrupt himself to wipe off a tear at the corner of his eye. He then looked at his own wet palm with disbelief as if he couldn’t believe he was actually crying over his old man - but managed to finish his sentence.

“He told me all about you and how you- how everyone believed you died. But you, you bastard, you didn’t and you killed him. How could you?”

“I don’t-”

But he did. Tony’s words had strung a chord in him, brought back a memory he didn’t know he could possess. A memory of the Howling Commandos. They were all there, around the table (even Captain America). And Agent Carter and Howard were there too. The image led to even more. And more. And before he could comprehend what was happening in his mind, it was being flooded with images, sounds, smells.

Sadness.

He had killed his friend.

“Winter!”

Suddenly, he was on the floor, crying. Steve was at his side immediately but he pushed him away. Nat quickly joined too and exchanged a look with Tony. The man looked dumbfounded. Inside James’ head, it was a hell of a shitstorm. The more he remembered about Howard, the more vivid, cruel the last he saw of him became. Howard did even recognize him - called him. He didn’t answer. He didn’t think about who that man could be - just another target, just another mission.

“Winter, please talk to me-”

“Steve, no, leave him alone” said Nat’s voice, “he needs it.”

Winter looked up between his wet hair and wetter eyes and saw Tony.

“I- I’m sorry.”

Guilt was filling his heart. Not the mild guilt he had felt when he had remembered that teacher he had shot in the beginning of the year or that SHIELD agent with his adorable daughter - that feeling he had done something not quite nice and had cause people some sadness. This was real guilt, starting from his guts to overfill his heart. Not only did he hurt Howard or Tony, he also hurt himself in the process.

And that was really new.

“Oh God, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry, Tony!”

What had he done?

Too much, too much, _too much!_

The tears wouldn’t stop. Steve was near him but not touching him, setting on grabbing Nat’s hand instead. Sam and Sharon were standing awkwardly behind them. Tony... Tony looked at him with pain on his face - before he said with his utmost honesty ever:

“I forgive you.”

And this was too much too.

Winter busted into tears again and fell into Tony’s arms. Iron Man clumsily patted him on the back while repeating ‘there, there’ not quite knowing what to do with this freaked out assassin and his still-wide open metal arm. But as much as Winter’s heart was burning, the fire was warm. The pain of sadness was still vivid but now there was also... relief? Peace. He felt bad but he felt good about it. That was really fucked up. But hey, he was a fucked up human being anyway.

 

*

 

Natasha made him vodka-down tea, he wiped his tears away with his sleeve and allowed Steve to finally hug him - now that he had regained composure he couldn’t but internally make fun of him for being so emotional. Come on Rogers, you could do better than that.

He sat down on the bar stool again and Tony resumed his maintenance. But the mood was completely different now. Tony had started talking gibberish again and now that he had made sure the mug near him was actually full of coffee, his sentences made less and less sense. It bore the four of his audience out but Winter thought it was funny as hell. He also felt free to ask questions about his arm. And they were both working on it, trying to uncover all its secret. After three hours, they were exhausted and Winter felt too much through the arm - but they were content with themselves. As a result, they decided to take a break on the sofa and Tony began to explain to Winter the difference between _Star Trek_  and _Star Wars_  - along with how they did all their special effects.

Meanwhile, Sharon decided to prepare dinner and Steve immediately jumped in to help her. Steve’s laugh boomed across the apartment while Sharon’s laugh was more of a reserved but no less frank one. Natasha taught Sam about a certain cocktail only her seemed to know about how to make it all the while they were playing a game of chess - that Nat unsurprisingly won.

While the stew was baking at its own quiet pace, the redhead proposed they’d try a game of monopoly. It turned out to be a complete, hilarious disaster. Steve was a bad looser but equally bad at this game. Tony was as a sore looser than he was but at least, he was some level of good at Monopoly. Natasha too hated loosing and in retaliation, sought to destroy anyone who mildly dared to oppose her. She ruined Steve in two rounds and nearly did it with Sam before she was stopped by Tony. Tony’s upper hand was of short term however because Winter and Sam formed an alliance to throw him out of the game.

Eventually, Sharon won.

After that, they ate dinner in front of the TV, watching the newest __Star Trek__  movie. The women and Sam made snark jokes all through it while, acting as a good student, Winter made a point to explain to Steve all the effects and the background details only for the blonde to declare, when the end credits rolled, that he preferred _Star Wars_  better. (Tony was outraged but Winter secretly agreed.)

They parted shortly afterwards because Natasha had to drive Tony home - too much coffee, vodka and tea in an terrible order (or mix). Sharon had a report to make to Fury at eight on the morning and Sam decided to accompany her so she could rehearse it and see if she wasn’t missing any clue. Winter and Steve cleaned the apartment peacefully and Winter announced his intention to go to bed. While the brunette occupied the bathroom for a much-needed shower, the blonde brushed his teeth in the living-room. His eyes fell on the unfinished painting. He had spotted Sam and Sharon talking about it and he knew perfectly what it was meant to represent. The whole painting was about Winter’s guilt, his guilt about being a soldier and having murdered people because he was ordered to. It was a sad painting, devoid of any hope.

When Winter came back, Steve called him.

“Can I borrow you some paint?”

Winter shrugged.

“Sure.”

Steve went into the bathroom to rinse his mouth and quickly washed his face. When he came back, the door to Winter’s bedroom was closed and all his painting material awaited on the counter. Steve grabbed them, wished his lover good night and went to settle in front of the unfinished painting.

From the edges, he dragged the blood red and painted with pink. From the center, he spread deep-see blue. Where the two met they became purple. They curved and bloomed in pastel flowers with lightly drawn petals with no stalk or leaf.

Then Steve went to bed.


End file.
